13 - Prodigal Daughter - 13th in the FLAME Series
by RBGirl
Summary: One of Dodge City's long-gone residents returns, bringing an unwanted surprise, chaos and the threat of death into the lives of the Dillons-young and old.
1. Chapter 1 The Talk

**The Prodigal Daughter**

 **Chapter 1**

 **The Talk**

Matt pulled his hat down to shade his eyes as he lay back on the grassy bank. "Keep an eye on my line, Cooper."

"Okay, Daddy." The boy peered intently into the still water, silently praying to snag Old Blue. Festus had dubbed that name for the giant channel cat a couple of years ago. Almost everyone had snagged the jumbo fish at one time or another, but no one was able to bring him in. Somehow, he would always wiggle his way free.

"Can we talk man-to-man, Daddy?"

Matt pushed the tip of his hat up just enough to see the little boy behind the serious voice. There was no denying the sober expression accompanying his son's tone. With the contented smile of a father, he let his hat drop back down over his eyes. "Of course, what's on your mind?"

"Well…" Cooper released a hefty sigh after only the one word, which should have warned Matt that something big was coming. "I was wondering if the next time you sleep with Momma, if you could put a baby boy in her tummy?"

Leisure time was over. Matt came up off the ground, words were strangling him as he choked on some and sputtered out the rest. "Baby…tum…sleep…WHAT!?" _Oh my gosh, this is going to be_ **_The Talk_**. Kitty said it would come, but surely not now. Not at _this_ age! Matt struggled to regain a voice that resembled an adult—preferably a male one—but at this point, the lawman would take anything that didn't squeak. "Coop…" His voice fizzled out halfway through. Clearing his throat, he gave it another try. "Cooper, what do you mean—when I sleep with Momma?"

"Are you all right, Daddy?" Cooper's scowl was a youthful blend of confusion and curiosity. "Did you already give her one?"

"Yes. ...What! No, I didn't… give her…I mean... yes, I'm… all right." With a nervous hand, he readjusted his hat back on his head. "What uh… where did you hear… Son, it's not 'sleeping' that makes…"

Cooper stared, thinking how his dad's sick, hangdog look and green coloring, were similar to that time Ranger got into that bushel of fresh-picked green beans—stuffing himself until his stomach bloated and he puked everywhere. "Did you think it was about cookies too?"

"Cookies?" Matt looked up to the heavens with a simple request: _Lord, just take me now_. "Cooper, I don't understand…what has cookies got to do with it?"

With a sigh that clearly questioned who had the most knowledge in this conversation, Cooper began to explain. "Ben Smullens got mad at his wife, Katy for giving Hank Finney some cookies she made. Then, she had a baby in her tummy; but… I don't think it had anything to do with the cookies. Me and Tommy heard Mrs. Clovis tell Mrs. Weaks, that if Mrs. Smullens didn't want that baby, she shouldn't have slept with Mr. Finney."

With his tale complete, silence seemed to wrap itself around the two male Dillons. Identical blue eyes were caught in a gaze, the older ones having no answers, while the younger set was still full of questions.

"I still don't understand," the young boy's face stressed his serious concerns, "because you sleep with Momma every night. Why don't we have a whole bunch of babies?"

Matt brought his hand to his forehead and used the other one to lean on. Never had he been so _swimmy-headed_. in all his life. "First of all, it's not nice to listen to other people's conversations. It's called _eavesdropping_ ; and what Mrs. Clovis was doing is called _gossiping_. Both of you were wrong."

"We couldn't help it. Me and Tommy were just waiting our turn to pay for candy in Jonas' store, but those women just kept talking."

"Okay, but next time… next time just walk away." He sat back on the bank and motioned for Cooper to come closer. "Why do you want Momma to have a baby?"

"Not just a baby, a baby _brother_." Cooper clarified.

There was a hint of mercy in the air, as Matt realized this wasn't _TheTalk_ , it was just a request. "Two sisters aren't enough for you?"

"Tommy Rachel has a new baby brother and he's going to teach him how to fish and hunt and swim and-"

Matt held up his hand to slow the boy down. "I got the picture. Can't you teach Hadley some of those things?" For the first time since this conversation began, he was granted a relaxing breath.

"Girls don't do those things."

"Cooper Reign Dillon! How can you say such a thing?" Matt scooted further up the bank, sitting upright. "Who taught _you_ to fish and hunt? To climb a tree?…to spit?…want me to go on?"

The boy's troubled expression soon vanished, making way for a grin that stretched from ear to ear. "My sister. Sometimes, I forget that she's a girl. But… Daddy, I don't think Hadley is going to be like Calleigh." He paused then added "…Except her temper."

Another prayer came into Matt's heart when he envisioned his youngest daughter. He looked up to the heavens once again, _Lord_ please _don't let her learn to shoot_.

Cooper was still curious about their earlier discussion. "So, Daddy. How come we don't have a bunch of babies?"

"Oh my gosh! Look! Is that Old Blue?" Matt hurried to the edge of the pond, hoping to leave certain questions behind him.

 **O0O0O0O0O0O0O0O0O0O0O**

"Did you catch Old Blue?" Kitty greeted the two anglers at the back door, motioning for them to take off their muddy boots outside.

"We saw him, but he didn't give us a bite. He's probably sleeping on the bottom where it's cool." Matt leaned down eager to give her the kiss he'd been carrying for her. "But we caught these." With a thumb pointing behind him, he stepped out of the way for his son to show off their catch.

Cooper held up a string, proudly displaying four good-sized catfish. "Can we have them for supper, Momma?"

"I don't know? Are you going to clean them?"

"I saw Uncle Festus coming up the road. I'll ask him to help me." Cooper knew he had a better chance of handling a knife with his uncle, as opposed to either of his parents. "I'll go ask him now!" The fishy smell wafted past the proud mother, as the boy rushed out of the room.

Matt watched the boy run past the window, toward the road. He stepped up behind his wife, leaning down to nuzzle her neck. "Mmmm, you smell mighty good lady."

With both hands captive to a sticky ball of dough, Kitty was pretty much at her husband's mercy as his hands slid around her waist and slowly dived down the front of her dress. She playfully rolled her eyes back toward him, "Too bad I can't say the same for you; and _what_ are you doing?"

Huge hands pressed her body against his, while his mouth lingered near her ear. "I thought you would remember, but I'd be glad to show you all over again." His hands slipped under her apron, wasting no time pushing the lightweight cotton dress aside. She was always amazed at the way his hands were able to snake their way through multiple layers of material.

"Matt… I have to get this bread ready for supper. Everyone is going…" a tiny but palpable gasp stalled her thoughts. "…going to… to be coming home." She was becoming both aroused—and panicked.

"They'll be at least an hour cleaning those fish, and no one else will be home until dinner time."

Kitty leaned into him, pressing her head back against his chest. "What's gotten into you?" At this point it was a breathless question, not an objection.

Matt reached around her and pulled the gooey ball from her hand, plopping it back into the bowl. "I'm hungry… for _cookies_." Matt swept his beautiful redhead up into his arms—puzzled look, messy hands and all—taking the stairs toward the bedroom two at a time.

 **O0O0O0O0O0O0O0O0O0O0O**

"I swear if one more person had asked me why we didn't have any bread with supper, I was going to have to shoot them…or you!" Kitty slipped into bed, briskly rubbing her hands across her arms to absorb the lotion from her nightly ritual.

Matt raised up far enough to pilfer a kiss, "You loved it." His mischievous grin matched the wriggling brows. "Remember what the good book says, _man does not live by bread alone_."

There was no sense in traveling down that path of conversation any further. Her husband was incorrigible, pure and simple. "Could you at _least_ explain to me what cookies have to do with anything?" Her smile wasn't one of disapproval, just satisfied curiosity.

"What would you say to having another baby?" Matt propped himself on one arm, as he watched her stunned reaction to his question.

"What?" Kitty sat perfectly still, her glistening arms falling limply into her lap.

Matt laughed softly. Taking advantage of Kitty's temporary shock, he placed another kiss to her partially opened lips. "Cooper was asking me about babies."

The shock passed and her mouth fell open in surprise, " _The Talk_? You had _The Talk_ with him? Oh no! He's too young to know about… about those things. Matt… he's still my baby!"

Kitty was working her way to tears and the Marshal knew he had to derail the sob-train before it came into the station. "No-no! Not _the_ talk, honey. Not yet. What he wanted…was for me to…to put a baby, a baby brother…." He reached over, letting his long fingers span across her stomach. "…In there."

Her lids closed, her body relaxed and she uttered a sigh of relief. "Oh, is _that_ all. Ever since Lena Rachel had a baby boy, that's all Cooper has talked about." She stopped, cocking her head to one side. "What does that have to do with cookies?"

Matt Dillon reached for his wife, pulling her into his arms. "Well, it seems as though Katy Smullens gave Hank Finney some cookies; and now she's having a baby." He could feel the laughter causing Kitty's body to shake. "It's okay, because Cooper figured out it was the 'sleeping together' that made the babies, not the eating of cookies. But he can't figure out why, 'we don't have a whole passel of em'."

By now, Kitty had buried her face in Matt's broad shoulders to muffle her laughter. Waking two children at this hour was never a good idea.

The laughter eventually waned, but she continued to rest her head on him. Kitty loved the sound of his voice as it rumbled up his chest, echoing in her ear. "Kitty?"

The wispy tendrils of sleep were teasing her body as she nestled peacefully against him.

"Hmmm?"

"You still didn't really answer my question."

"What was that?" There was a sleepy innocence in her tone.

"What would you say to having another baby? Another boy _would_ be nice." Matt waited, but the only disturbance in the overall silence, was the soft, gentle sounds of her sleeping. He brushed a few stray hairs from her temple and replaced them with a kiss. "It's okay, sweetheart; we can discuss it later."

 **TBC**


	2. Chapter 2 - Phyllis Ainsley Returns

**The Prodigal Daughter**

 **Chapter 2**

 **Phyllis Ainsley Returns**

It was Tuesday—not a very exciting day of the week: Too soon past the last weekend, and too far from the next. When the stage arrived at noon, there was no one there to greet it. Jim opened the door for the only two passengers on board, then pulled their bags from the top of the coach.

The young woman stood on the platform, shifting her critical gaze from one end of Front Street to the other. She tucked a couple of stray, raven curls that had plagued her travel for the last five miles. The beige traveling suit that she wore, only served to make her already too-thin frame appear even more anemic. Despite her slight form, there was no evidence of frailty in her character.

She snapped her fingers and motioned to the other passenger, still seated. Slowly, a boy pulled himself from the coach. He didn't appear to be much more than twelve, but he was already near his mother's height. The boy obviously took after his father—not just in size, but the tint of his brown, curly hair didn't come anywhere near the ebony locks of his mother.

If there had been anyone standing near them on the boardwalk, they would also have seen that the blue-eyed boy did not share his mother's eyes.

He could remember a time when her green eyes were warm, loving. They would laugh together when he teased her that her eyes were the color of the moss that grew along the banks where she would take him fishing. Those days were gone. Now, she looked at him through cold, hard eyes, incapable of compassion, void of love.

But, this day on the boardwalks of Dodge City, there was no one to see the differences, or the similarities. Nor anyone to carry her bags. When Jim came out of the depot, he noticed the lady was still waiting. "Is someone coming to meet you?"

"Do you see anyone!" Her terse response caught him like a slap in the face. He was going to suggest he carry her bags, but now he was half afraid to offer. It didn't matter, because in the next moment she settled the dilemma for him. "Don't concern yourself. We'll be fine." She picked up the two small bags and called to her son. "Matthew." The boy failed to respond, as his interest was taken by the unknown surroundings. "Matthew!" She commanded sharply.

"Huh?" Her sharp tone brought him to attention and he turned to face her, withering beneath her glare. "Sorry, mother."

There may have been a slight adjustment in her voice—nothing even close to kindness, but at least a trace of tolerance as she pointed to the two larger bags. "Get those and let's get to the hotel."

Jim tried one more time. "The Dodge House is-"

"Thank you, I know where it is." She gave the boy a light shove toward their destination.

Jim Buck was an easygoing man, but this woman had pushed him to the limit. The rudeness, he could abide. He carried hundreds of people a year, to various places, each one with a different expectation. Some excited, some scared; some were private and kept to themselves. But this one! …It was her treatment of the boy that spurred Jim Buck to interfere. He watched the slight youngster struggle with the two oversized bags until he couldn't stand by any longer.

The man stepped forward and tapped the boys arm. "Let me help you with that, son."

"I said-" Cold eyes blazed at the driver, but her words were cut short.

"Ma'am, I heard every shrill word you said, and I don't want to spend any more time around you than necessary, but this boy needs help. Son, why don't you grab one of those bags from your mother." Jim secured his grip on the two large bags—and winked at the boy—as he headed to the hotel.

Being a gentleman, he waited at the door, allowing his female passenger to enter the lobby in front of him. Once she and the boy were inside, Jim carried the bags to the front desk and sat them down. "Howie." He looked at the lady…and then back to the clerk. " _Good luck_." With a tip of his hat, and a smile to the boy, Jim Buck returned to his job.

"You wait with the bags while I get us checked in." The boy shifted his weight from one foot to the other, but nodded silently that he understood.

Howie smiled, as the woman approached the counter. "Welcome to Dodge. Will you be staying long?"

"That depends on many things." The woman replied tersely, as she turned the book around to sign her name. "Does Mr. Dobie still own the hotel?" Her question surprised the hotel manager, but his slight pause only served to irritate her. "Was that too difficult a question for you?"

"No, I just…" Howie's words stumbled, as he remembered Jim's words. _It's going to take more than luck with this one_ , he thought. He pulled erect and readied himself for her wrath.

"Mr. Dobie _does_ still own the hotel, but I am the manager." His intention was to glance at the signature, but the name caused him to take a second, longer, look. "Mrs.-"

"MISS, Ainsley." Her green eyes flashed, as though suppressing a scary amount of rage. "I would like to speak to Mr. Dobie— _when_ he comes by." Once again, she snapped her fingers and the boy struggled with the huge bags. "What room are we in?"

"Twelve." Howie's tone was as cold as the eyes of the woman before him. "I'll get those bags for you, if you want."

"Thank you, no. We can handle it." She stepped in front of her son. "You'll need to make two trips." She coldly instructed the boy.

Howie watched the woman and boy climb the stairs and disappear into a room near the end of the hall. He then hurried around the counter and carried the other bag to the top of the stairs, in order to help the boy. _Ainsley_ , he repeated to himself. _Wasn't that the girl that was with Jess Crider? ...Or was that the sister_?

Howie returned to his post, still nursing his injured pride from his encounter with the latest of Dodge City's returning daughters. He leaned back onto the counter, absently flipping the pages of the magazine that had held his attention before her arrival.

Jim Dobie was always willing to spend that extra dime to make sure his hotel was the finest in town. Granted, it _was_ the only hotel; and he intended on keeping it that way. So only the finest and most up-to-date amenities could be found at the Dodge House—including the quarterly subscription to the _Saturday Evening Post_.

Howie's eyes rolled upward, toward room twelve. As irritated as he was, the article he had been reading by Charles Dana, stared up at him—tempting him to let go of his anger and return to the fascinating piece.

Within a few minutes and a couple of pages, the clerk was once again engrossed in Mr. Dana's writing. Howie lost himself in his reading and the boy had to actually reach up and touch the man's arm to get his attention.

"Excuse me sir…" It was a soft, unsure voice that spoke, exemplified by his fearful expression.

"My mother is sick. Can you get a doctor to come see her?"

Howie flipped the book closed. Despite the rudeness of the woman, he felt only sympathy for this young boy. "The clinic is open today, so both doctors are in town. Go left on the boardwalk and straight down Front Street. You'll see the sign 'Adams & O'Brian, M.D.' They're located upstairs over Milner's Store."

"Thank you, sir." The cap the boy had been nervously fumbling between his fingers, finally found its place on his head as he turned and ran from the lobby. His steps were somewhere between a run and a fast walk, as he tried not to bump into anyone on the boardwalk. The sign he sought was suddenly within sight, along with the side stairs leading up to the clinic.

Pulling the cap from his head once again, the curly headed boy stood nervously in the doorway. The room was empty—save a pretty, young, redheaded woman and a gray-haired, older man. "Excuse me, are either of you doctors?"

The two physicians glanced first at the boy, then each, other then back to the boy. "We both are son, what do you need?" Doc was the first to step forward.

"My mother is sick. We're staying at the hotel and…she needs a doctor." If he had been a couple of years younger, there was no doubt he would have broken down and cried; but twelve was a hard age—no longer a baby, but not yet a man—so he fought off the tears.

Calleigh closed the glass-front doors to the medicine cabinet and turned to grab her case. "I'll get it, Poppy. Mabel Whisley will be here later and she'll want to see you, for sure." She tossed him a playful wink before turning to the boy. "What was your name?"

An odd look came over the boy, as if he were stumped by her question. He stared down at his feet, then with a quiet response. "Matthew. My name is… Matthew."

"Oh, that's my father's name, too." Calleigh smiled, as she opened the door for him. "Okay, let's go see what I can do for your mother." She watched the boy hold himself back, desperately wanting to go faster, but too polite to do so. "Did you and your mother just arrive in Dodge?"

"Yes ma'am. We've only been in town a couple of hours."

"Did she get sick on the journey here?" Calleigh sensed the boy's fear, so she tried to keep her questions light.

"No, she...she has headaches. She's been sick for a long time. That's why we came here."

His answer was more confusing, that informative. By this time, they had reached the hotel. Calleigh figured it would be best just to wait and question the patient directly. She acknowledged the clerk upon entering the lobby. "Howie."

"Hi, Little Doc. She's in room twelve. Did the boy tell you his mother's name?"

Calleigh glanced down at the boy, her smile curious. "As a matter of fact, he hasn't."

"Phyllis _Ainsley_."

A faint frown furrowed its way across Calleigh's lips, even spreading to the smooth, white skin of her brow. She glanced again at the anxious boy beside her and hurried up the steps. Before she had time to knock, he had flung open the door and rushed in to check on his mother. "I brought a doctor, mother. She's going to help you."

Dobie had purchased several hand-carved rockers to place in some of his rooms. The one in room twelve was a dark walnut piece, with a chain of hearts and roses hand-painted across the top rail of the chair. Lilac colored brocade, with tiny buds printed in the fabric, covered the seat and a small section of the back. As delicate as the chair was, it appeared massive around the diminutive figure resting in it.

Long ebony hair draped over the top rail of the rocker, as the woman leaned back, with a cool cloth to her forehead. Her son's announcement, caused her to drop the compress and despite her fragile appearance, her icy tone had not diminished in the slightest. "How many times have I told you NOT to leave without my permission? I don't need a doctor!"

The visual reprimand she gave to the boy even caused Calleigh to shiver. "He was worried about you. Since I'm here, maybe I can just take a look."

"It's a headache. Matthew just gets excited for nothing. If you have some headache powders, I will take those." The woman sat up, brushing her hair back behind her shoulders.

"Well, I'm not in the habit of just passing out medication." Calleigh was surprised at the way the woman had aged. She was still attractive, or would be—if her features weren't so distorted by such a hateful countenance. This was not at all the girl Calleigh remembered.

"What happened to Dr. Adams? Did he finally retire—or die?" Her fragile appearance was in stark contrast to the hostility in her voice.

"He's in quite good health, thanks for asking." It was hard to throw the young physician off her game; and despite the woman's dire health, Calleigh was _not_ going to subject herself to the rancorous temperament of this woman. "As a matter of fact, we are partners now. Dr. Adams is my mentor." She pulled out her stethoscope, but the woman held up her hand to stop any form of examination.

"You're the _Russell_ girl, aren't you?" Ainsley attempted to reel in her contempt for the moment.

Calleigh dropped the medical tool back into her bag. "I was. It's O'Brian now." It was doubtful that a friendship was going to blossom from this meeting, so Calleigh chose to keep it on a professional level. "How long have you had these …headaches?"

"It's from traveling." Again, the ill woman cast a caustic glance at her son. "My son just gets overly excited. With a little sleep and some powders, I will be fine. You don't need to concern yourself."

Dr. O'Brian glanced across the room at the anxious boy standing by the door. Phyllis Ainsley was lying. This boy was terrified; he knew that whatever was wrong with his mother, it was more than a little fatigue and a headache. She couldn't help but remember how frightened Cooper had been when his mother was stricken with typhoid. "So, Matthew, do you like to fish?"

The silence in the room became awkward, broken only by the Ainsley woman's sharp tone.

"Matthew! The lady asked you a question."

Big blue eyes, blinked slowly, as if being drawn back into a place he did not want to be. "I'm sorry ma'am. What?"

"I asked, do you like to fish?"

A smile rushed to his face before he had time to stop it. "We used to go fishing all the time."

"We?" Calleigh was doing a little fishing of her own.

"Mother and me. She used to take me to-"

"Matthew, we don't need to bore the lady. I'm sure she has other patients to attend to.

Calleigh dug into her bag and pulled out a bottle of pills. She poured a few into a her hand and set them on the small table beside the rocker. "Take two now; and two more when—I mean, if—the headache returns."

Phyllis Ainsley clearly understood the subtle message in the young doctor's words, but chose not to challenge her suspicions. Instead, she diverted the issue to a question of her own. "I guess you remember me?

"Of course I do. We thought that maybe you would have come home when your father passed away."

"Nothing to come for." She paused to look at the boy. "…Until now."

Phyllis Ainsley's words were cryptic and Calleigh felt the chill of ill winds blowing into Dodge; but it was too elusive to put her finger on.

 **TBC**


	3. Chapter 3 - Guess Who I Saw?

**The Prodigal Daughter**

 **Chapter 3**

 **"** **Guess Who I Saw?"**

Calleigh set the plate of bread on the table before taking her seat. Doc said grace, adding a special thanks for the fresh-baked rolls, causing Kitty to sneak a guilty peek at her husband.

"Guess who called me over to the Dodge House today?" Calleigh tore one of the coveted rolls in half, buttered it, then set it on the tray of the highchair beside her. Several curious looks came her way, but most of her family was too busy chewing to verbalize their questions. "…Phyllis Ainsley."

The look of surprise passed among them like it was contagious.

"I felt so sorry for her years ago." Naturally, it was Kitty to express sympathy. "I was hoping that when your Dad had offered to talk to her, it would help."

"Offered!" Matt choked back the morsel of beef that he had started to swallow. "If I recall correctly, _you_ came into the jail and _ordered_ me to talk to her. Batting those heart-stopping baby blues at me… Looking all sweet." He fluttered his eyes at Cooper, imitating the boy's mother and assumed a falsetto voice " _Oh, Matt, if I had had someone like you to talk to me when I was that age.._."

The Marshal's impression brought laughs and giggles from his audience. While Cooper's hand shot over his mouth to corral the chewed up carrots that were trying to break free, Hadley wasn't as polite. Rather than hamper her giggling with a mouthful of green beans, she opted to spit them out onto her tray.

Kitty feigned a chagrined expression. "I just felt sorry for her."

"Yeah, you're not the one that had to go all the way to Spearville to bring her back! I thought I was going to have to tie her up that night, to keep her from running off! Chester wasn't any help at all. He slept like a log through the whole thing."

Newly tried not to laugh, but he couldn't help but remember that Matt was already dealing with a preteen redhead at home at that time in his life. He glanced over at Calleigh. "She's not much older than you, is she?"

"Not much." Calleigh leaned over leaving a kiss on his cheek. "She's the same age as you. I'm surprised you didn't date her?"

Newly looked around the table, all eyes waiting to see if he would be able to escape from the trap his wife had set for him. The young deputy rolled his eyes and assumed an exaggerated sigh, "I only had eyes for you."

' _Ahh's'_ and other sentimental utterances echoed around the table, but he just couldn't stop himself from adding, "Besides, I didn't want to get shot."

Calleigh had to give his ribs a punch, to offset the laughter from her family. "I didn't fall in love with you until the _next_ year. I was only thirteen when Phyllis ran away with Jess Crider!"

Matt speared another slice of beef as he pondered the past. "Were you thirteen?"

"Yes, she was." Kitty confirmed. "We had been living in that little house for almost a year, when Belle returned and the whole Crider thing happened. I had been really hoping that the two Ainsley girls could patch things up."

"Why did you see her? Is she sick?" Newly laughed, as he pictured the Marshal dealing with another wild, teenaged girl."

"Yeah; sick—and nasty." Calleigh made a snorting sound, a most unfeminine exclamation. While it drew a reprimanding glare from Kitty, it thrilled Hadley to the point of attempting to mimic.

"Sorry, but she was _really_ in a foul mood. And that poor little boy—he's half terrified." Calleigh leaned down to shush her little sister, while trying to bring her interest back to the food scattered across her tray. "I don't know what's wrong with her, but it's more than just a headache. Something sure has made her bitter."

Kitty felt a twinge of guilt as she looked around the table. Guilt and gratitude, that her life had been so blessed. "How old is the boy?"

"I'd say ten; maybe twelve. Wouldn't you say, Poppy?"

"Yeah, about that. Where's the boy's dad?"

Calleigh followed Kitty's lead and began to clear the table. "Her name is still Ainsley, so I don't know that there _is_ a dad in the picture. She did say something odd… She said, she didn't have any reason to come home—until now. What do you suppose that means?"

Kitty shrugged, as she lifted the baby out of her chair and handed her off to Festus. "Please try to stay out of trouble." She glanced at Calleigh, each wondering exactly which one of those two she was giving those instructions to.

 **O0O0O0O0O0O0O0O0O0O0O**

Matt slipped his arm around his wife as he escorted her to their room. It took an extra story, and two extra drinks of water to get them settled, but finally, both of the children were asleep.

"How do they manage to still have so much energy at the end of the day?" Matt kicked his boots loose, before undoing his belt to let his pants drop to the floor. He settled down in the easy chair for a bird's eye view of his wife, as she got ready for bed. When Kitty walked by, he reached up, grabbing her by the arm to pull her down onto his lap. "Hi, gorgeous. Come here often?"

She bit her lip to stifle a smile, "I guess you could say… I'm a regular."

"Hmmm…" Matt pulled her closer, burying his face in the soft curls draped down her neck. "Oh yeah, I think I remember you now." His lips played softly along the curve of her neck. "...Kelly, isn't it?"

"It's Kitty!" She scrambled from his lap, barely reaching the bed before he had her again, pulling her with him down onto the feathered mattress.

"Oops." Matt rolled over, pinning her beneath his massive body. "Come on, honey. You know how bad I am with names."

"Matthew Dillon, you are..." His lip captured hers, silencing her accusations, while his hands roamed freely—exploring, touching, loving. When his mouth moved from hers, she whispered his name again, but it was no longer a reprimand. Now it came in a breathless sigh.

They broke apart, only long enough to shed the remaining useless and unwanted garments. With the obstacles gone, the sensation of skin-on-skin elicited a series of sighs and moans. What began as a playful mating, soon erupting into a state of need—a place demanding satisfaction. She arched back, drawing him in further, deeper, filling her with his massive girth. Each stroke propelling them closer, until the world split apart in an explosion of blinding light. He reached between them, teasing that precious pearl one more time. When he felt his wife suck in that sudden breath—as she grabbed onto him—he knew he had given her that final moment of ecstasy.

Slowly, their supple bodies began to relax. He sprinkled a row of kisses along her cheek. "Ahh, Kelly, you were fantastic." Matt was definitely prepared for the punch to the ribs that came his way. "Sorry, I meant…Kailey." When she went to punch him again, he grabbed her slender wrists pulling her close against his body. "Like I could EVER forget your name." He found her lips with a kiss that confirmed his words.

In a forgiving gesture, she snuggled in beside him, enjoying the feel of his fingers raking gently up and down her back. "Matt, I had the oddest dream; that you asked me something last night."

"Was it the dream that was odd, or the question?" Obviously, she had been partially awake last night.

"I guess the question." Kitty pulled back, giving up the backrub. "I didn't dream it, did I?"

Matt looked into her eyes, those same sapphire blues that melted his heart. "You mean, about the baby?" He watched the expression on her face, trying to read her answer.

"May I ask why? I know Cooper's reason, but I'm not sure I understand yours." There was a caressing quality to her voice, as if her words had gently wrapped around his heart.

He brushed the tips of his fingers down the side of her face. "While I was talking to Cooper, I…I realized how much I really love being a father. I love seeing a part of you in them; a part of both of us." He leaned in to kiss her again. Matt Dillon could kiss her in a way that made Kitty feel as though she had never been kissed before. His lips brushed past her ear as he pulled away. "Did I ever tell you, that you make _beautiful_ babies?"

Just when she thought she couldn't possibly love him anymore than she did, he would go and say something like that! Did he even consider her age? Thirty-six wasn't ancient, but it sure wasn't prime. All the while, as she pondered these facts... he continued to stare at her with those sweet blue eyes… those pools of ocean blue, beckoning her to dive in. "How do you know that we didn't create one tonight?"

"I would know." His grin was teasing, but something in his gaze told her that somehow, someway, he really _would_ know.

 **TBC**


	4. Chapter 4 - Chaos at the Prairie Rose

**The Prodigal Daughter**

 **Chapter 4**

 **Chaos at the Prairie Rose**

Evening always brought a pleasant buzz of conversation to the Prairie Rose: Families gathering for dinner, Tia had her girls scurrying around, all dressed in pink-and-white checked-gingham day dresses, each sporting a full, crisp white apron. The willowy blonde virtually floated throughout the room, seemingly everywhere at once. The swinging doors to the kitchen seldom had a chance to come to a full stop, as waitresses were constantly disappearing into the kitchen only to emerge minutes later with trays of food.

It had been a long week and to give Kitty a break, the family had all decided to meet at the Prairie Rose for supper. Calleigh and Festus had arrived first. Tia seated them at their usual table by the front window. Matt always preferred a place where he could keep an eye on the town. Kitty appreciated the view of Front Street, to help entertain her children during the meal.

Doc was the next to arrive. He carried a small redhead, while escorting another. Tagging alongside was a miniature version of the Marshal. Someone called Doc's name before he reached the table. The old physician caught sight of the raised hand trying to attract his attention. "Kitty, I'll be right back. I need to talk to Dobie." He started to hand the baby to her mother, but Hadley had other ideas.

"No! I go wif Poppy. Pwease…" As usual, she knew that, no matter what his initial answer was to be, a kiss would cement her request in his heart. " _Pwease_?"

"She'll be fine. We'll be right back." He turned to the manipulating redhead, and in a voice reserved only for her. "Are you Poppy's girl?"

"Poppy's girl!" She giggled.

Dobie's wife had to make a fuss over the bubbly little girl. It was attention that Hadley had come to expect—and exploit. "Aren't you just the prettiest little thing!"

"Tank you." Hadley's eye caught sight of a delectable wedge of chocolate cake resting on the Dobie's table. Soon a pudgy little finger was pointing to the desired item. "Cake, Poppy?"

"Doc, is it okay if I give her a wee bite?"

"Tell Mrs. Dobie thank you, but you haven't had dinner yet." They all stared at the little girl, as she pondered the reason for a 'thank you' if she wasn't getting any cake. Finally, a smile emerged, without a thank you, but she did offer a polite, _okay._

"Did you hear who's back in town, Doc?" Jim looked around the restaurant, giving Henry Bodkin a nod hello.

"I'm guessing you mean the Ainsley girl." Doc was as curious as the hotel owner, but had no answers. "Did you pay her a visit?"

"Well, she demanded to see me, if that's what you mean. She wanted to know what the Marshal said that night he came looking for her."

Doc swiped at his mustache. "Why on earth would she want to know that?"

Dobie shrugged and shook his head. "Marshal Dillon was quite upset with me for letting her run off with that Crider man, but I figured everything was all right when he brought her back. I have no idea why she brought that up, after all these years."

"Hmmm. Well those Ainsleys always were a strange bunch." Doc felt a hand on his shoulder, as the baby started to squirm in his arms.

"Poppy, why don't you let me take Hadley and get her settled at the table?" Calleigh offered the Dobies a smile, in lieu of a verbal greeting. She reached for the girl, but Doc pulled back before she could get a hold on her.

"It's all right. I'm on my way over." He turned back to the Dobies. "Jim; Harriet, have a pleasant evening." Then to Hadley, "Can you tell them bye-bye?"

"Bye-bye." The baby bid them farewell, complete with an adorable grin and a chubby-handed wave.

Doc returned to the table and with Calleigh's help managed to maneuver the toddler into the highchair Tia had provided. "Looks like this Ainsley's arrival has all the tongues a-wagging."

"I must admit," Kitty confessed. "I'm curious myself. What is there in Dodge for her to come back to? Not a thing that I can think of."

By the time Matt and Newly arrived, the mood at the table had mellowed into a pleasant, settled atmosphere. "How is the law business today?" Calleigh reached up for a kiss, as Newly took the seat next to her.

Newly sighed and looked at his boss. "Let's see… Thom Williby was threatening to shoot Bo Makin, for stealing his prized pig."

"Which _wasn't_ stolen." Matt clarified. "It had just slipped under Thom's broken fence and was eating its way through his wife's vegetable patch. Now, _Maude_ is threatening to shoot Thom."

"A raccoon got trapped in the back room of Sarah Carr's dress shop. It got into her boxes of buttons and thread. Made quite a mess before we could coax it out enough to catch it."

"This is why we pay all that big money for your salaries?" Doc feigned his typical, crusty attitude. "So that you two can fight off pigs and raccoons? Civil servants! Humpf!"

Their laughter began to subside just as their attention was drawn to the front of the restaurant. Tia was trying to prevent a disturbance with a troublesome customer, but her efforts were proving to be unsuccessful. The lady, as it turned out, was none other than Phyllis Ainsley in the flesh. The pills may have cured her headache, but they certainly hadn't improved her mood.

With the boy in tow, she pushed her way past the willowy blonde and headed straight for the Dillon table. "Matt." Phyllis's body, though somewhat frail, appeared to be bolstered by her anger. "I _thought_ maybe you would at least come to the Dodge House to see us!"

Matt was completely at a loss. He didn't understand the young woman's anger, or her accusation. He glanced at his wife, but her face mirrored his own confusion. An uneasy stillness settled over the table. The Marshal tossed his napkin onto the table and rose to his feet.

"Phyllis, I'm sorry. I didn't know you wanted to see me. Is there something I can do for you?"

Although it wasn't a scream, her voice had taken on a shrill edge. "After twelve years! Yes, I think there _is_ something you could do for me!"

Silence had captured the entire dining room by now. All eyes were focused on the Marshal's table. Once again, Matt looked at his wife for support. Support she could and would give him; but answers…existed only in Phyllis Ainsley's mind. Matt made another attempt. "Phyllis, I don't understand-"

"First you contact me, tell me to come here and then you ignore me. I am not playing this game with you anymore!" Phyllis' face had become distorted with rage. She turned her eyes away from Matt, in search of the redhead beside him. "Did he tell you what he _did_ to me that night? His promises!? A scared seventeen-year-old kid—and he raped me!"

The screeching sound of chairs sliding on hardwood, drowned out her voice. As the wooden seats flew from the table, bodies bounced to their feet. Calleigh was the first to stand, with Festus right on her heels. Newly grabbed for his wife, able to hold on physically; but there was no way he could silence either her, or the scruffy man at her side. Words were being bantered back and forth between the three of them. Words defending the man they loved, while fighting off ugly, threatening lies of this woman, bent on destroying him.

For a frozen moment during the chaos, Matt felt the ground under his feet shift, as if the earth were falling away from him. Instantly, he could feel Kitty at his side. That long moment passed and the pandemonium erupting all around him snapped him out of his shock.

" **Enough**!" That familiar, husky voice shouted into the screaming face of Phyllis Ainsley.

The silence that came with his outburst was anything but serene. It was tense, explosive and it held every person in the room spellbound.

"I don't know what this is all about." His deep voice shook the silence."But we're definitely _not_ going to do this here!"

"You want to know what it's all about!" With more strength than one would have thought her to possess, she grabbed the boy by the shoulder and shoved him toward the big man. "His name is Matthew. You wouldn't give him your _last_ name, but _I_ gave him your _first_ name. He's your son!"

Matt wanted to respond, to say no, to say **_hell no_** , but he couldn't speak. For the second time in a matter of minutes, this woman had dropped the world out from under him. He stared into the terrified face of the boy and he couldn't conceal a certain amount of compassion in his response. "Phyllis, this is not my son. I don't know what you're trying to do here, but…" Again, his heart went out to the innocent young boy. "You are not my son."

He looked around the room, taking in all the wide eyes and shocked faces. In the middle of the silence, Kitty's soft voice was heard. She pulled her daughter from the highchair and held her hand out to her son. "Come on children, we're going home with Daddy."

Like a parade in slow motion, Matt Dillon and his entourage filed out of the restaurant, all with heads held high.

 **O0O0O0O0O0O0O0O0O0O0O**

Hadley had been frightened by the scene in the restaurant, but unaware of its cause. Kitty had rocked the child to sleep, then tiptoed down to her son's room. She started into the room, but then decided it was actually a father-son discussion that was needed. She leaned against the wall, directly outside the boy's room.

"Daddy, why was that woman so mad at you?"

Matt sat on the edge of the bed, brushing his hand through the boy's curls. "She's very sick, Cooper. I don't know why she was saying those things."

"Daddy?" Cooper was afraid to ask, but too confused not to. "Is that boy…is he…"

Matt quickly quashed his son's fears."No, Cooper. You are my only son. You know that your mother and I love you and your sisters very much."

"I know, Daddy. I love you too. But, I feel sad for that boy. Can you help him?"

Matt stroked his son's cheek. It would be Cooper's way to be concerned about someone else's feelings. "We'll sure try. Do you think you can get to sleep now?" The boy smiled and reached up to pull his Daddy down for a hug and kiss.

Kitty waited for her husband outside the door. No words were spoken, as he slipped his arm around her waist and they walked down the stairs together. When they reached the foyer, Matt pulled her into his arms. His embrace was a little tighter than usual, but he needed to draw from her strength, now, more than ever. "I love you."

"I know that." She always had a way of making everything sound…so simple. So right. He knew she would never ask, that she would never _need_ to. Kitty took him by the hand and led him to the kitchen, where the rest of the family was waiting.

"They asleep?" Kitty responded to her daughter's question with a silent nod. "I made coffee, but Poppy thought that we all needed something stronger." Calleigh held up the bottle of whiskey she had procured from the study. "I concur with his diagnosis. Matt?"

"I think I need both." He pulled one of the oak chairs from the table, while giving his body permission to drop into the hard wooden seat.

The bottle of whiskey was disappearing faster than the coffee. Where most of the family was in a state of shock, Calleigh was still filled to the brim with rage, causing words to careen from her mouth faster than anyone could respond. "I don't care that she's sick. That doesn't give her the right to slander my father and mother like that! Why is she doing this? Do you think she's after money?"

Newly laid a hand to his wife's shoulder, in an attempt to both calm and reassure her. "We'll figure this out." He reached for her cup and walked over to the stove for a refill.

Matt looked at the stunned faces surrounding him. He finally allowed his gaze to rest on Kitty, before attempting to begin. "I want to tell you all-"

"Matt!" It was Doc that stopped him, but the others felt the same. "If you think you have to explain to any of us…" The old man swiped at his mustache in an irritable gesture. "Well, …you just don't! That's all I got to say!"

 **TBC**


	5. Chapter 5 - Until The Sun Rises

**The Prodigal Daughter**

 **Chapter 5**

 **Until the Sun Rises**

The moon had precedence over the sun for another four or five hours. There was a dim light in room twelve of the Dodge House, just enough of a glow to outline the fragile looking creature standing in the window. Her gaze had settled on Front Street, but all she could see was the confrontation that had taken place at the Prairie Rose.

That was not at all what she had expected. Long, slender fingers pulled the tattered telegram from the pocket of her robe, forcing her to read it for the hundredth time. Why did he send for her? She rubbed her temples to ease the throbbing. A quick glance at the bedside table told her she had gone through the small stash of pills that Russell girl had left. She leaned against the window, the glass cool and soothing on her forehead. Why was he playing games with her?

Phyllis could hear the gentle breathing of her son on the cot in the corner. He was a handsome boy. A good boy. She glanced in his direction. There was no reason for Matt Dillon to deny him as his son. It was that woman, that Russell woman. _She_ was the reason he couldn't—or wouldn't—acknowledge the boy. Somehow, Phyllis knew that she would have to get rid of her.

A ray of light suddenly burst through the cloud of confusion: Maybe he wanted _her_ to get rid of that woman for him. Kitty Russell had been clinging to him for years. Phyllis pulled herself from the window; the throbbing was beginning to subside. Of course, that made perfect sense. He was a U.S. Marshal. He couldn't do it himself.

With a confident sigh, she slipped into the semi-soft bed. To prove she wasn't heartless, she would give that Russell woman one more chance to walk away.

 **O0O0O0O0O0O0O0O0O0O0O**

Calleigh opened her eyes; there was confusion swimming in the pools of blue. She blinked several times, as if to clear her head. With the slightest turn, she found herself confronting a pair of brown eyes, brimming with concern.

"How did I get here?" she raised up, leaning back on her elbows.

"I found you asleep on the porch swing—of all places." Newly sat down on the edge of the bed.

He brushed a handful of loose curls behind his wife's back. "You were so tired; you didn't even wake up when I carried you up here. I know how troubling all of this is."

Calleigh bolted upright in the bed."Troubling! That woman is accusing Matt Dillon of fathering her child! I call that a lot more than _troubling_."

"Calleigh, sweetheart…" Newly gripped her by the arms, trying to reel in the redhead's anger. "Calm down. I'm on your side, as well as your Dad's."

"I'm sorry." She leaned into him. "I just don't understand what she wants!" The frustration had returned full force, Newly figured the anger wouldn't be far behind. "I just wanted to choke her! To make her stop saying those terrible things about my dad."

"Honey, we will get to the bottom of this. I promise"

"I know they weren't married then, but still. He would _never_ cheat on Kitty—married or not!" Calleigh was too agitated to stay in bed. She needed to move, to pace. She virtually jumped out of bed, then whirled around to face her husband. Newly grabbed at her arm in an attempt to calm her down, but the adrenalin was pumping full speed. "Does she want money? Maybe she's just crazy." The girl suddenly turned her attention back to her husband. "Maybe it's some plot from someone he sent to prison, or killed or something! People are always trying to kill him, or get revenge for some imaginary wrong."

"Calleigh!" He shouted her name loud enough to get her attention. "The sun will be up soon. Come back to bed, you need some sleep. I know I do…"

She stood quiet for a moment, long enough for Newly to slip up behind her. He spread his hands over the tops of her shoulders and began to massage the tight muscle tension. Her husband hoped that some of the anger—then gradually, the tension, might drain from her body—like air leaving a balloon.

Her anger finally flat and discarded, Calleigh drug herself back to bed, snuggling into the safety of Newly's arms. "What must Cooper be thinking right now? He has got to be so confused."

"We will deal with all of this tomorrow. _Please_ , baby—go to sleep!"

"The poor little guy is already confused by the whole cookie thing..." She looked up under half-closed lids and a shy smile. Calleigh knew, _the_ _cookie thing_ , would remind Newly of the impetuous kiss by that rodeo rider.

Newly pulled her small frame closer and stretched out beside her. "Are you sure you want to bring up the cookie thing, _now_?" He pulled her in for a sensuous kiss. _Who needs sleep, anyway_?

 **O0O0O0O0O0O0O0O0O0O0O**

Matt stared out the kitchen window, watching the sun inch its way up the horizon, slowly melting away the darkness. Sunrises weren't as colorful as sunsets, but they had a freshness about them. Streaks of light spanned across the murky sky, announcing to the world that it was a new day—another chance for everyone to get it right.

He took a sip of the coffee and held the bitter liquid in his mouth. It was too early to wake Kitty, so Dillon had put the remainder of last night's brew back on the stove to reheat. The second drink was better, causing him to rethink his first impression. Even reheated, his wife's coffee was better than a fresh pot of that black swill at the jail.

Matt sensed her presence before she had even stepped over the threshold. Kitty walked across the room, sliding into her husband's arms, just as he turned around. "Morning Cowboy. Why didn't you wake me?"

He kissed the tip of her nose. "You looked so cute. Besides, it was just too early."

The bittersweet smile he wore broke her heart. "Let me make you a fresh pot." She gently pushed him out of the way. "Did you get any sleep at all? Every time I woke up, you were pacing the floor."

Matt took a seat at the table. "If you were watching me, then you didn't get much sleep either."

She put the coffee on the stove and walked over to take a seat beside Matt. Before she could sit down, he pulled her onto his lap. "Hi, pretty lady."

"Hey, Cowboy." She brushed her hand through his loose, brown curls.

He buried his face in her hair, wanting to hide from the world, if only for a moment. "I am so sorry, Kitten. I… I don't know what to say."

Kitty leaned back, forcing her husband to look at her. "You have nothing to apologize for. I don't know if Phyllis has a vendetta against you… or maybe she's mentally ill. But as far as you're concerned, I just know." She paused, pulling his face closer for a kiss—a sweet, honest, trusting kiss. "I just know." She said again.

 **TBC**


	6. Chapter 6 - Kitty Is Accosted

**The Prodigal Daughter**

 **Chapter 6**

 **Kitty is Accosted**

Kitty held her breath—and her temper—as two of the fine ladies of Dodge offered their support regarding the episode at the Prairie Rose. Mabel Otis and Corrine Buckner had filled the void left by Mavis Penshaw's departure and become the leading town gossips. Although neither of them was as vicious, they were certainly as thorough and definitely as eager. Kitty knew all too well, that despite their sympathy, which was minimal at best, what they really wanted was more fuel for the local gossip mill.

With a fixed smile, Kitty did her best to graciously make an exit from Jonas' store. "Thank you both, but I really have to be going." With each word Kitty Dillon backed a step closer to the door. She had finally reached the boardwalk, when she saw a sudden change in the two busybody's expressions. They turned, from mock sympathy, to what couldn't be described as anything other than exhilaration.

Two sets of eyes, filled with anticipation, hung above mouths that were all but drooling. It wasn't until Kitty heard the familiar voice of Phyllis Ainsley behind her, that all the pieces fell into place.

" _Miss_ Russell. I need to speak to you. Now." The hard edge still accompanied Phyllis's every word.

Kitty cast a final look at the insatiable gossips facing her, before turning to confront her antagonist. She maintained the same calm she had drawn upon years ago with Mavis. "If we must speak, you will address me as, _Mrs_. Dillon." A look of confusion flashed so quickly in the other woman's eyes, Kitty wasn't sure if it had been there at all.

Phyllis scowled as she let the title roll around her tongue before repeating it. Even then, she had to question its validity. "He _married_ _you_?"

Kitty could feel the muffled snickering from behind her. "Yes. He did." She proclaimed the fact proudly, as always, as she attempted to bypass her aggressor. It was then that Kitty realized the boy was standing behind his mother. Their eyes met for only a moment, but it was long enough to break Kitty's heart and—shame the child.

Phyllis was not ready to step aside, nor was she concerned with the young boy's presence. "I can't believe he would actually marry you! Not after he promised me-"

"Miss Ainsley, please!" Kitty interrupted sharply, trying to stop a reenactment of the chaotic scene at the restaurant. "I know that Matt Dillon did _not_ promise you anything. Not then, cv and certainly, not now." Her gaze drifted once again to the frightened little face hiding behind his mother. "And, please… Let's not do this in front of your son."

"Don't you concern yourself with him! What do you know about it, anyway?"

"I know I'm a mother. I would not want my son to be subjected to-"

 _"_ Oh, shut up!" The angry woman shouted, silencing Kitty's words. "I have proof. Is that what you need?" She pulled the strings on her reticule and began searching frantically through the bag. Finally, she laid her hands on the paper, ripping it from the bag and holding it up as though it were akin to the Holy Grail. "He sent me this telegram! He wanted us to come. Read it!"

Donning her famous poker face, which was void of any emotion, Kitty stared at the crumpled piece of paper. "I don't need to read it." Her response was deadly quiet. But, again, her attempt to leave was thwarted.

"It says, ' _I've been looking for you and my son. Please come to Dodge'_." Ainsley recited the words from memory. "You see? He's been searching for us." Phyllis shoved the paper in the redhead's face. "Why are you afraid to look!?"

Suddenly, the whole world was reduced to the doorway of Wilbur Jonas' Mercantile. Kitty stared into the frigid green eyes, finding no warmth, no compassion and definitely, no love. Without a word, Kitty took the paper from Phyllis. She maintained a visual connection with the angry woman while she reached out, wadded the paper in her hand and let it drop to the ground. Blinking slowly—as if to say, ' _I'm done with this_ '—the wife of Matt Dillon brushed past the green-eyed woman and continued down the boardwalk.

With her head held high, Kitty walked as far as the Prairie Rose. She cast a secretive, sidelong glance to the three ladies still on the boardwalk, as she entered the restaurant. Tia had come to know her boss very well and even from across the dining room, she could see that something was wrong. With a professional smile plastered in place, so as not to draw attention, she assumed a hurried gait to greet the owner.

"Come on back to the kitchen." Tia slipped her arm through the redhead's and continued to chat casually as they walked through the crowded room.

As soon as they cleared the swinging door, Tia escorted her boss and friend to the little office in the back. "You're as white as a sheet, Miss Kitty! What's wrong?"

Finally, Kitty let her body drop onto the swivel, high-back chair behind the oak desk. "I was just cornered by that Ainsley woman again…AND both Mrs. Otis _and_ Buckner."

"Oh my gosh!" Tia's hand went instantly to the poor woman's shoulder. "I am so sorry. What is wrong with that woman?" Her gaze was warm and genuinely concerned. "Can I get you a glass of water?"

"No. But you can certainly get me a shot of whiskey." Kitty knew the expensive brand was only served on the high-end side of the restaurant. "Tia? Please make it the good stuff. And make it a double."

The blonde flashed a quick smile as she disappeared through the swinging doors. She must have run all the way, because within what seemed to be only seconds, she had returned. Slightly out of breath, Tia handed the deep amber liquid to the pale woman.

"Do you want me to go get the Marshal?"

"No, I just need to catch my breath and calm down a bit." Kitty sighed appreciatively, as the smooth, brown liquid slid down her throat.

'I think Calleigh is-"

"Oh, good heavens, NO!" Blue eyes rolled upward towards the heavens. "I want them stopped, not shot!"

Tia bit her lip to keep from laughing. It was funny, but also true. "Do you want to talk about it?"

Kitty closed her eyes and leaned back in the chair. "I'm sure you will hear all about it before long. It was mostly a continuation of what you saw here the other night. I really don't have a clue as to what that woman wants." Blue eyes opened, revealing great sadness. "That poor little boy... He has no idea as to what is going on. He's as confused as all the rest of us."

"Does she think the Marshal is going to leave you for her?" Tia managed to say the words, as incredulous as they sounded. Anyone that knew the couple knew there would _never_ be anyone else, for either of them. Even if—God forbid—something happened to one, the other would never remarry. Tia, along with most others, wondered if the one left behind would even survive. A smile turned at the corner of her mouth, as this thought reminded her of the love she shared with Wylie.

"I… don't know." Kitty shifted upright in the desk chair, causing the springs in the swivel base to squeak. "You know, when I looked in her eyes; I think she _does_ believe it. She was surprised to learn that we were married."

"Maybe she just intends to blackmail you." Tia eased herself, by leaning against the table.

"Maybe, but the subject of money hasn't even come up." Kitty released a heavy sigh. "Sadly enough, that crazy woman is in charge. All we can do is... just sit and wait for her to make the next move."

"At least we can wait together." Matt stood quietly, just inside the office door. His simple statement immediately drew the shocked attention of both women. He took another step forward, his blue eyes penetrating those of the woman he loved. There was a touch of anguish in his tone. "Why didn't you come to me?"

For a moment, Tia forgot that she was even in the room as she watched the heartbroken man, hold out his arms. Kitty slowly rose from the chair and slipped into his embrace. "I didn't want to worry you."

Not that it mattered at this point, since neither of the Dillons even realized she was still there, Tia sniffled back a tear as she quietly slipped out the door.

Matt held Kitty close, always wanting to keep her out of harm's way. But he didn't know how to fight this situation. He couldn't shoot it. Couldn't hit it. How do you fight rumors? Accusations. Lies.

"I ran into Otis and Buckner. They were _concerned_ about you. Stepped all over each other to tell me about the telegram." He slipped one finger under her chin to tip it up. "They said you didn't read it."

"I didn't need to." The Russell defiance was definitely kicking in.

"Kitty, we need to talk." She tried to look away, but he wouldn't permit it. "I have to tell you, I didn't send any telegram. I have no idea where she is coming up with this...this story."

Kitty slipped out of his embrace, but her eyes remained locked on his. "Matt, if I was curious, I would have looked at the telegram. And if I had doubts, I would be asking questions."

Matt stared at his wife; the few seconds of tense silence felt like an eternity. "I know. I just feel like this is all being dumped on you." He pulled her back into his arms. "I love you Kitty, so much."

The defiant attitude was replaced by a loving smile, "I know that. And you know I love you too." With that said, she pulled his head down, claiming his lips in a much needed kiss.

 **O0O0O0O0O0O0O0O0O0O0O**

Phyllis Ainsley, was livid once again. The boy had compared her eyes to the soft moss that grew along the riverbanks. That comparison didn't hold true today. The confrontation with Kitty had left them dark, almost black with rage. The green-eyed woman had literally wanted to choke that woman when she wadded up the telegram and dropped it like it was a piece of trash.

"If she would have just read it!" The words escaped through clenched teeth. "Well, I gave her a chance. There must be some people left in Dodge that remember me and would be willing to help." She tossed her head with a haughty flair. "Money usually solves most problems."

 **TBC**


	7. Chapter 7 - Matt Loses Perspective

**The Prodigal Daughter**

 **Chapter 7**

 **Matt Loses Perspective**

Matt had been quiet all evening, even by Matt Dillon standards. He had smiled when called for and been polite enough; but Kitty knew it was all just surface reactions.

It was unusual for Matt to be the one standing on the balcony, but that's where Kitty found him when she came out of the water closet. She watched him stare off into the perfect night sky as she pulled the duvet from the bed. Unlike her husband, who would merely wad the soft quilt into a ball and toss it on the chair, Kitty folded it neatly before setting it aside.

She walked over to the French doors, leaning against one of them as she continued to study her husband. He was so absorbed in his thoughts that her presence went unnoticed. Kitty found that slightly disturbing. Even more so, when she reached out and he flinched from her touch.

The reaction only lasted a second, before he breathed out his anxiety and pulled her into his arms. "I'm sorry baby. I was…somewhere else."

Kitty accepted the kiss, even though it felt derived more from need, than passion. "Am I supposed to ask where that place is… or is it private?"

Matt held her far enough back to let himself get lost in those sapphire eyes. "Like I could ever keep a secret from you." The words seemed to sour in his mouth before he had finished. "That was a stupid thing to say, since that's exactly what I'm being accused of doing." He pulled her back into his arms, just as before, she sensed it was from need, not passion.

"Kitty, I…keep going over that night." Every word he spoke shouted desperation. "There was **_nothing_**. We barely even talked. She was so angry with me for dragging her back home. Not to mention the fact that I had shot and killed Jess Crider." He had released his wife and stepped closer to the edge of the balcony. "But why wouldn't she have cried rape then? Why wait _twelve years_?"

Her heart ached for him, as she wished for an answer that just wasn't there. Kitty covered the short distance between them. She wrapped her arms around his body, pulling him down for another kiss. "Come to bed." At any other given time, that would have been whispered in a sultry, seductive tone; but tonight, it was just an invitation to get away from the pain.

Matt followed her inside. He blew out the light on the bedside table, allowing the shadows to escape in the illuminating moonlight. They slipped between the sheets together. Kitty was content to snuggle up against him, but he suddenly seemed to have other ideas.

Matt pulled Kitty to him, his lips seeking hers while his hands stroked the smooth flesh leading down to her firm, slender thighs. He gently pushed them apart to make room for him to enter. Kitty uttered a slight gasp, surprised by his sudden penetration. If there was one thing that Matt Dillon did even better than handle a gun—it was to handle a woman. He was, without a doubt, the most ardent lover she had ever known. But he wasn't displaying any of his skills tonight. It wasn't rough; he was just as gentle as usual, but the way he held her… lacked passion.

He had never made love to her like this. No one had since… A shiver ran through Kitty's body as a long forgotten memory surfaced. A bitter taste accompanied the flashback, robbing her voice of its natural strength. A raspy whisper was all she could muster to utter a single word: "Stop."

Matt buried his face in the curve of her neck, her quiet command hadn't registered.

"Matt, I said **STOP**!" This time it was shouted, as a harsh command. With both hands, she pushed him away and slipped out from under him.

Matt watched, confused, as she scrambled over to her side of the bed. Kitty then reached over, and snatched the sheet to cover her naked body. "Honey, I'm sorry. Did I hurt you? I am so sorry." Matt wanted to reach for her, but he was too afraid. "What did I do?"

It was more hurt, than anger, that lit up her face. "What was _that_!?" She could see him silently struggling to understand. "You weren't making love to me! You were laying claim to me." Kitty cocooned herself tighter and drew herself up to her knees. "It's been a lot of years and I had just about forgotten what it feels like to be bought!" Her sapphire eyes filled with unshed tears. "But I sure **_never_** expected to feel that way with you."

"Bought? Kitty what are you talking about?" Matt swallowed the lump of fear that was building in his throat. "I don't understand."

"Look! I know how a man behaves when he owns something that he thinks might be taken away from him. Whether he _**owns**_ ** _it_** for an **hour—** or a lifetime." Before he could stop her, she dropped the sheet, grabbed her robe from the chair and ran into the water closet.

Shame swept across his face, brushing away the confusion. It wasn't quite as harsh as she made it sound, but there was some truth in her words. Matt followed the sound of the slamming door. He could hear water splashing on the other side and of course, crying.

After awhile, Kitty leaned her forehead against the smooth, polished grain. He could hear the tears in her voice. "I've never given you _any_ indication, since this whole thing started, that I didn't believe you."

"No, you haven't. Maybe…maybe that's part of where the fear comes from. For all of these years you have stood beside me, no matter what. Even in those first years, when I took and took and took and you quietly gave and gave, while waiting for me to come to my senses."

Kitty didn't respond to his admission. Instead, she allowed the quiet to reach an uncomfortable level before making her own confession. "You made me feel—cheap."

She couldn't have hurt him more if she had taken a knife to his heart. "My God, Kitty I _worship_ you, you know that! I was just...just scared." The silence separated them more than the oak door. "Kitty..." He rapped the back of his knuckles on the door, before letting his head rest against it. "Baby, you have to know that I love you."

They leaned, forehead to forehead, with only the smooth oak surface between them. "And that's how you show it!? You just…just…have your way with me!" She winced, embarrassed at her melodramatic choice of words. " _Have your way with me_?" She whispered incredulously.

Matt's brows furrowed with her uncharacteristic flair for the dramatic. _Have your way with me?_ Did she _really_ say that?

He was such a fool! If he had just made love to her like always, like he wanted to, none of this would be happening. "Can you... forgive me, for being afraid? Kitty… I know I don't deserve you and sometimes… I'm afraid you're going to realize that too."

"I realized that a long time ago." Kitty sniffled back the last of her tears. "The only reason I kept you around was because you were a mediocre lover."

 _Mediocre_? Suddenly he was bombarded with a rush of memories: How beautiful she was in that moment of climax. The exquisite moans and sighs he was privy to hear. The sultry cry of his name on her full, sensuous lips. Matt could feel the blood starting to pump through his body, leaving him hard and wanting. Nothing in this reminiscence evoked the word _mediocre_.

He heard the muffled click of the lock and quickly retreated from the door. Matt held his breath until she had fully stepped into the bedroom. Kitty squared her shoulders, her delicate jaw set firm. "I washed every trace of that man from my body. I don't _ever_ want to find him in my bed again!"

It took every ounce of willpower he had, to maintain a calm façade. Matt nodded politely. "Yes, ma'am. He's gone—for sure."

Kitty held her chin up, attempting to maintain her aloof composure. Once blue met blue, neither could hold out, or pretend. She allowed the robe to drop to the floor, as he swept her into his arms.

The stranger was gone, Matt Dillon was back. She felt his lips find hers, his tongue probing, tasting. Strong hands began to caress her body. Her breath faltered as he caressed her breasts, stroking the nipples until they stood up so firm, they ached for the touch of his mouth.

But he could only give them a moment's attention. His lips were needed elsewhere, as he slowly inched his way down her body. He could smell fresh lavender, causing him to smile. She really _had_ washed that man away. Finally, he reached his destination. Strong, masculine fingers led the way to her vulnerable spot. Matt had passed the point of tasting. He fed from her body like a starving man, driving Kitty into a frenzied state of euphoria. Her fingers weaved through his thick, brown curls, as her body shuddered. Nothing existed for Kitty but the stroking of Matt Dillon's tongue, the warm suckling of his mouth. Tears rolled down her cheeks and she cried out his name.

Matt kissed the sensual spot once more, before stretching his massive body over hers. She eagerly accepted him, her body already wet, waiting for him, her muscles contracting around him. Now it was his turn to fight for every breath, as every nerve began to explode like a series of neutron stars. Kitty clung to him as they came together. It was several minutes before he could speak; even then it was only a single word. " _Me-di-ocre_?"

 **TBC**


	8. Chapter 8 - Breck Taylor

**The Prodigal Daughter**

 **Chapter 8**

 **Breck Taylor**

Matt walked down the boardwalk, heading toward Breck Taylors's office. Just as his hand slipped over the knob, the attorney pulled the door out of the Marshal's grasp. "Saw you coming," the shorter man volunteered with a smile. "Come on in."

Matt took a seat across from the heavy mahogany desk in the young man's storefront office. He stared at the large piece of furniture, absently comparing the battered old wood to the elegant piece Kitty had chosen for his study. It wasn't until Taylor called his name a second time, that he realized he had been lost in an insignificant daydream.

"I've heard the rumors." Taylor took a seat on the corner of his desk, one foot touching the floor, while the other dangled loose.

"Is there anybody in Dodge that hasn't?" Matt brought up one long leg, resting the ankle on the opposite knee. "That's kind of why I'm here."

"You think this is a legal issue?" Taylor's smooth forehead was lost in a sea of wrinkles.

Matt's sigh was heavy and desperate. "I've wracked my brain, trying to figure this out. Money could be a possibility. I guess I'm wondering if…" He stopped, with a shameful toss of his head and started to get up.

"Now, hold on." Taylor slipped off the desk and eased the big man back into the chair. "You're ashamed to be thinking of money, when that little boy is at stake."

"I know it doesn't make sense. I suppose I need to tell you that he-"

"Whoa!" Taylor's well manicured hands shot up into the air. "Stop right there. I haven't lived in Dodge for a long time, but long enough to know, if that boy was yours, you would be the first to admit it."

"Thanks." Matt relaxed back into the cushioned chair. "I don't know how I can prove it though. If she is doing this for money, what recourse do I have?"

"I know they have been using eye color to prove paternity."

"Yeah, Calleigh already checked that out. Using that theory, there's would be a fifty percent chance. Well, looks like I _might_ need your services."

Taylor took his seat behind the desk this time. "I hate to give you more bad news, but I'm not sure I can represent you." He expected a puzzled look and Matt didn't disappoint him. "I've only told a couple of people, but I'm leaving Dodge. My father is pretty sick and my mother is having a difficult time."

"Well, when he gets better-?"

Taylor sadly shook his head. "That's not likely."

"I hate to hear that, Taylor. I thought you were a pretty good fit for Dodge. Now who's going to protect the inalienable rights of the fine citizens of Dodge City?" Matt's smile was weak, but genuine, as the two men remembered their first meeting.

Matt pulled himself to his feet. "Why don't you come out for dinner, Sunday? I know Kitty would love to have you, as well as to have a chance to say good-bye."

"I would like that." Taylor escorted his friend to the door, wishing he had a magic pill to spare him the misery he was going through. "It will work out, Matt. I just know it will."

 **O0O0O0O0O0O0O0O0O0O0O**

Matt stepped back onto the boardwalk and adjusted his hat, pulling the brim down over his forehead. _What else can go wrong_ , he wondered. With a defeated sigh, the Marshal headed for the Long Branch. This day called for a drink.

"Marshal." Pete raised his hand to wave, forgetting about the dishrag still clutched between his fingers. He dropped the towel and walked over to the counter. "What can I get you?"

Matt puffed out his cheeks and blew out a long breath. "It's a whiskey kinda day, Pete." He watched while the slender-built man reached behind him for a bottle. Much to Pete's surprise, the Marshal downed the brown liquid and pushed the glass forward for a refill.

"Hey, Cowboy, care to buy a lady a drink?"

That was the voice that caressed his heart. Just the sound of it was enough to make him set the glass back down. He turned to face the redhead. "Pete, could you bring another over to that table?" Matt slid his arm around Kitty's waist, escorting her back to a very familiar table. "What are you doing here?"

With a ' _thank-you'_ to Pete, Kitty turned her attention back toward her husband. "I went to see Breck, too. He said that he saw you come in here." Kitty took a sip of the strong brew. "Think this will help?"

"Won't hurt." Unlike the first glass, Matt took his time with this one. "I just needed to think. You go to see him for the same reason I did?" Her quiet nod answered his question. "I feel like I'm all over the place. Confused all the time. Add to that—scared, angry, lost."

"Alone?" Kitty toyed with the inexpensive shot glass, her blue eyes shielded by heavy lids.

Matt reached across the table, taking her small hand in his. "Never alone, sweetheart. But, I do feel like I'm in a nightmare that I can't wake up from." He looked around the Long Branch. "Seems like a whole different life."

"Miss it?"

"Do you?"

She smiled, as he had thrown her question back at her. "It was a good life, but it was time for you and I to move on. I will always want this place to be a part of our lives, just not the center of it."

Matt held up his glass in a saluting gesture, with a smile. "Good answer. But then you always could come up with words of wisdom." His smile faded quickly, with the interruption by an unidentified male.

"Well, look at the pretty lady, Clip." The raspy voice belonged to one of a pair of cowboys that had, more-or-less, tumbled into the bar. It was obvious they had already enjoyed libations from at least one other saloon, if not more.

"Move on, cowboy." Matt let his piercing blue eyes rise to meet the drunken man. "Go on back to the bar."

"Oooh, you are a looker, sweetheart!" Ignoring the Marshal's warning, the drunken man leaned down for a closer look, as he touched Kitty's arm. "Don't be unfriendly. Come to the bar with me and Clip."

Matt reached for the intruder's arm, but was not quick enough. The taller of the two caught the deadly look in the big man's eyes and was sober enough to be cautious. With a bit of force, he was able to pull his friend away. "C'mon Rad. Let's get us a drink."

Kitty had watched the visual exchange between her husband and the liberator. Matt was not a particularly jealous man, but these days, he had become quite territorial. She reached over, laying a gentle hand on his forearm. "Hey, it's okay. He's just drunk."

His pursed lips curved into a half smile, accompanied by a nod. "I sure _don't_ miss guys drooling all over my girl." Even after all these years, it still felt a little odd in this place when he took her hand in his and brought it to his lips. No more hiding. Matt reveled in the smile she gave him. "I'm going to get a beer."

Before he could get his chair pushed from the table, Kitty was already on her feet. "Let me see if I remember how to do this." With a promising wink, she turned toward the bar.

"So _this_ is what the Marshal does when he's supposed to be working."

Luckily, Matt recognized the voice before seeing the face. "Wylie, does _your_ boss know you're loafing on the job?"

Wylie took off his hat to capture the loose blonde curls and slipped it back on. "Well. Boss, I guess he does now." Matt motioned for him to have a seat. "Festus sent me in to pick up some stuff from Hargus' saddle shop."

Rad Millins shouldn't have accepted the extra whiskey Clip bought for him. Not that the whiskey alone could be blamed for his behavior, but it certainly didn't help. When he saw the pretty redhead standing at the bar, he thought she was his for the taking.

The conversation with Wylie had momentarily distracted Matt from his wife. He didn't see the drunken cowhand mosey down to her end of the bar. Nor did he see the stranger slip up behind Kitty, trapping her between two beefy arms and the wooden counter.

Kitty squirmed around to face her aggressor. Her eyes darted to the table behind him, praying that this blustering oaf would go away before Matt saw him. The fear in her voice was not for herself. "Look, why don't you go on back to the other end of the bar."

"Gimme a little kiss and I'll buy you a drink." His hands slipped around her back pulling her hard and fast into his chest. It was hard to squirm around, trying to avoid his whiskey-soaked lips without crying out, but Kitty was giving it a valiant try.

She pushed hard, quietly—but firmly—warning him to back off. Her efforts were in vain, as his whiskered chin scraped her cheek, only seconds before his tongue invaded her mouth. The invasion was short-lived.

It was the sound of a chair crashing into a table that instinctively told her that Matt knew and was about to make his presence known. Less than a second later, Rad Millins was flying backwards, eyes wide, hands flailing. Matt twirled him around and that iron fist came swinging wide, sending the cowhand crashing through furniture, as he sailed across the room.

On any other day, that might have been the end of it. But, not today. Today Matt stomped across the room, snatching the man up by the front of his shirt, hitting him again. Just like before, Rad took to the air as if he weighed nothing, before bouncing into a couple of chairs and another table.

After the second hit, the Marshal didn't bother picking Rad up. He just continued to pummel that mouth. Those filthy lips that had dared to touch Kitty's. Matt was past the point of hearing Kitty screaming for him to stop.

"Boss, don't kill him! _Marshal_!" Wylie yelled hopelessly, all the while tugging at the big man's arm. "Marshal! _Stop_!" Wylie quickly surmised that yelling was not going to stop the fight. The young man knew he could never whip Matt, but he was hoping to knock him off balance long enough to get him to stop. He stood up and took a flying leap at Dillon.

Wylie's plan was successful. Matt tumbled off the beaten cowhand and Kitty threw herself in between the two men. She stared into his eyes, not recognizing the lethal gaze, but not afraid of it either. Soft hands rested on each side of his face, forcing him to look into her eyes.

"Matt… sweetheart, it's over." She watched the anger dissolve with each involuntary blink. He stretched out his long fingers, tracing the angry red marks on her face, proof of her violation from the coarse bristles of the unconscious cowhand's stubble.

Clip carefully stepped over to his partner. He swallowed hard when the Marshal looked in his direction. "I…I'm sorry. We didn't know you was a Marshal." He drug the beaten man into a sitting position. "We shur didn't know that lady was your wife. What are you gonna to do with him?"

Matt pulled himself to his feet, bringing Kitty up with him. "Get him out of here. Both of you. Get out of Dodge and stay out." He was more concerned with his wife, than the drunk.

Repeating his apologizes like a mantra, Clip drug his friend out the batwing doors and threw him over his horse. All he wanted was to see Dodge City disappearing behind him in the dust.

Wylie reached down to retrieve the Marshal's Stetson from the floor of the saloon and brushed it against his thigh to clean off the dust. He stood patiently waiting, while Dillon determined for himself that his wife was all right.

Aside from some bruised knuckles, Marshal Dillon was virtually unharmed. But it was those same brutal hands that lovingly straightened up his wife's lace blouse and smoothed out the loose curls. Neither moved, as blue merged with blue. Cupping her face in his hands, he leaned down, letting his lips tenderly caress hers.

The young ranch hand teetered on his heels, fingering the brim of his boss' Stetson. With a patient smile, he glanced back at Pete and the other patrons at the bar. It was clear that no one was going to interrupt the Marshal and his wife.

"Are you _sure_ you're okay?" Again, he touched the inflamed skin.

"You and I both know, I've handled worse than this back in the day." She tried to smile and lighten the mood.

"Yeah! And I didn't like it _then_ either." He grumped as he slipped his hand around her waist. "Wylie, I'm taking her home. Stop by the gunsmith shop and tell Newly to keep an eye on things 'til I get back." He reached out for his hat. "Thanks"

 **O0O0O0O0O0O0O0O0O0O0O**

Calleigh sat on the counter in her husband's gun shop, swinging her feet like a pendulum. The silver band on her boots clicked each time her ankles came together. "What are the odds that you would come into town and the woman that you decide to kiss is the Marshal's wife? **_And_** do it in front of the Marshal. Hmmm…. Talk about bad luck." A dubious frown emerged. "Or is it, bad timing?" Her grin returned with a shrug. "Either way, he's lucky to be alive!"

"The way I hear it, he almost wasn't. Wylie said he really beat the guy."

She jumped down from the counter and walked around to Newly. Standing up on her toes, Calleigh wrapped her arms around his neck and snuggled in close. "Would you do that for me?"

As much as he wanted to tease her, his heart wouldn't allow for anything less than the truth. "You know there is nothing I wouldn't do for you. And no one I wouldn't fight."

Her quest had been a teasing one at first but now she was lost again in those brown eyes. Like molasses all warm and thick, drawing her in. Calleigh knew he would give his life for her. She pulled his head down needing to feel the connection of her mouth on his.

She stroked his cheek as she backed away. "I think I'll ride by the jail, to see if he's back yet."

Newly offered a pleading smile, "Calleigh."

"Oh don't worry. I won't hurt him." She was almost out the door, when she turned with one last word. "Much."

 **O0O0O0O0O0O0O0O0O0O0O**

Matt kept his head bent over his paperwork, but allowed his eyes to drift up when the office door opened. If he couldn't see the mischief in her smile, it had certainly taken residence in those bright eyes. "Don't start." His words were blunt, as he returned to his paperwork.

With wide-eyed innocence, Calleigh literally bounced over to his desk, taking a seat on the corner. "Start what?" He mumbled something incoherent as he shuffled the latest stack of wanted posters. She leaned over, feigning great interest in the featured outlaws. "Got one for the 'kissing bandit'?"

Blue eyes rose slowly, warning the young woman to be careful. He could still turn this adult doctor over his knee and would likely do it if pushed. "Did you come in for something special?"

Calleigh backed off the desk, taking a seat in the chair beside it. Although she was smart enough to comprehend a viable threat, it was her love for him that caused her to stop. "Sorry. I know how hard these past few days have been for you." Her tone matched the sympathetic touch of her hand on his arm. "You know, you _will_ be vindicated of that woman's accusation. Everybody in Dodge knows that boy is not yours."

" _How_ do they know that, Calleigh?" His concern was for his family, not his own reputation.

Those same eyes that sparkled of mischief only minutes ago, now shined with unwavering devotion. "Because thirteen years ago, your illegitimate child actually _did_ show up in this town. And you accepted her with pride and love, even before you knew the truth. You would do the same for this boy, if there was even the slightest possibility that he was yours."

Matt's smile was slow in forming, but sturdy when it arrived. "Every time I'm ready to turn you over my knee…you go and say something like that."

 **TBC**


	9. Chapter 9 - Good Help Is Hard To Find

**The Prodigal Daughter**

 **Chapter 9**

 **Good Help Is Hard to Find**

Fergie Asher wiped his snotty nose on the tattered sleeve of his best jacket. His Uncle Argus had been pretty successful in the trading business. Mostly, because he was slick enough to cheat both the Indians and whites for the goods they brought in. Maybe he wasn't the most reputable business man, but…profitable. Fergie had inherited the warehouse when Argus was killed by a couple of his shiftless employees. Unfortunately, Fergie didn't inherit any of his Uncle's business savvy.

Eyes that came into the world pale blue, some thirty odd years ago, had lost their luster and were buried in a scummy sea of yellow. Right at this moment, they struggled to stay focused on the prim and proper lady standing in front him.

"MISTER ASHER! I have explained to you what I need." Phyllis rubbed at her throbbing temples. "Now can you do the job, or not?" She stepped back into the shadows to keep from being seen. Her precautions were needless, as this end of town was as dead as Argus Asher.

"Why'd cha come to me?" It wasn't a streak of decency that caused him to ask, it was the fear of going back to jail.

"My…father…was an associate of your uncle's." The slender lady whipped a lace hanky in front of her nose, mainly to ward off his offensive odor. "I've been asking around about you and from what I've heard, you're exactly what I'm looking for."

He walked around the woman, eyeing her from the floor up. "So; you want 'em dead, huh?"

"Dead or alive, doesn't matter to me. I just want them gone." She motioned to the stack of empty crates, mostly covered in dust and cobwebs. "Can't you just put them in a crate and haul them off? Preferably down to the Cimarron Strip. I hear they're having Indian trouble right now."

"Five-hundred dollars, you say?" Fergis liked just saying that much money. "Who are these two people you're wantin' me to grab?"

"That Russ- I mean, Dillon woman; and her boy." Despite her contemptible tone, it was the actual words that caused the eruption from Fergis.

"THE MARSHAL'S WIFE AND KID!? Are you _crazy_!? Or do you think _I_ am?" He dropped one shoulder and wheeled around, while sliding the opposite hand through a mess of greasy hair. "Unh-uh, lady! That man would **_kill_** me—unless he could find something even worse to do to me. No, lady. Not even for any five-hundred dollars!"

"Shut up, you fool!" Her piercing green eyes darted up and down the darkened street. "He _wants_ me to do this."

It was meant to be a laugh, but coming out of Fergis, it sounded more like something painful crawling up out of his belly. "Suuure, he does. The Marshal wants to get rid of his own wife'n boy? How stupid do ya think I am, lady?"

Answering that question was not going to help her in this situation, so she side-stepped it and continued on. "He can't do it himself, because he _is_ the Marshal. Tell you what, I will raise the price…" Phyllis ran the tip of her tongue across her bottom lip, contemplating what it would take to sway the disgusting little coward her way. "How about I make it… two-thousand dollars?"

Apparently, from the paralyzing silence that rested over him, Fergis Asher was more greedy, than spineless. "Two-thousand dollars? Real money?"

" _Real_ money. Half now; the other half when the job is done." She repeated with a quiet, but firm tone. "Can we do business, Mr. Asher?"

 **O0O0O0O0O0O0O0O0O0O0O**

Fergis bit the cork between his teeth and popped it out of the bottle. He filled the two shot glasses, pushing one in front of Lem Nells. "I'm telling ya, it's the easiest two-hunnerd dollars you'll ever make!"

Lem slammed down the first glass and motioned for another. He was going to need several of those to stomach the walking ball of slime sitting across from him. Luck had not been courting him here lately and he was broker than broke. Adding to the burden, he owed too much money to the wrong person, making the possibility of seeing another birthday…doubtful.

Helping himself to another shot, he glared at Fergis. "Just drive 'em down to the Cimarron Strip—and then what?"

The generous host took a slow visual sweep around the Long Branch. He had picked the loneliest table in the far corner. Despite the privacy, he leaned in closer to answer. "There is no…'what'. You can just leave 'em stranded for the injuns to find. Or kill 'em, if ya wantin' to. That's up to you."

"Who is it, exactly, that wants them gone?"

"The husband; and some woman. I'm thinkin' she's his girlfriend."

"Husband!" The desperate man snapped back from the table. "We're talking about a _woman_? I ain't never hurt no woman!" He came to an abrupt stop, both physically and verbally. Dark black eyes narrowed, rife with suspicion. "Just –who- _is_ the second person I'll be driving down to Cimarron— _if_ I was ta go?"

This partnership was going south and Fergis knew as soon as he fessed up that it was a kid, Lem would walk away. His only chance was to increase a share of the bounty. "I'll give you a thousand dollars!" He truly hated to give up half, but it was better than losing the whole thing.

Shock draped across Lem's face like a veil. This was going to take a minute to mull over. He lined up all the facts in his head like dominoes: Kidnapping a woman… One thousand dollars... Kidnapping a woman... One thousand dollars... No more hiding from Bull Madigan… One thousand dollars... "Hey. You ain't answered me. Who is the other person?"

"Nobody! Just some boy. What's it matter when pit against a thousand dollars?" Fergis was nearly breathless with anxiety.

The bad points were surely—bad, but _a thousand dollars_ outweighed them all. "I'll drive them out there; but I won't kill them."

Fergis released the breath he had been holding. He knew how much Lem Nells disliked him. Thanks to a bunch of loose tongues, he also knew how desperate Lem was for money. "Onst I get 'em, I'll come get ya, and you kin _hurry up_ 'n' drive 'em outta town!"

 **TBC**


	10. Chapter 10 - The Pinkerton Man

**The Prodigal Daughter**

 **Chapter 10**

 **The Pinkerton Man**

Collin McPherson had worked for Pinkerton for almost ten years. He was one of the first agents to hire on with Allen Pinkerton. It was seldom that he actually went out on a case anymore, but something about this woman had touched his heart.

His objective, on going out to her ranch, had just been to get the details of the case and decide if the agency would take her on as a client…

 **O0O0O0O0O0O0O0O0O0O0O**

Mrs. Rance Tarlton, was an attractive woman in her mid-to-late thirties. She was tall and slender, with long, blonde hair that hung in layers down her back. Rance Tarlton was in his early sixties. Physically, Tarlton was in good shape, but Collin McPherson suspected it was still a marriage of money. For some reason, the old guy was willing to pay for a woman half his age.

As the lady began to talk, Collin was taken aback by her blunt honesty. Apparently, she had been pretty wild in her younger days. Still, she made no excuses for the mistakes she had made, or bad choices that had refused to stay buried.

Belle Tarlton's—or Ainsley's—father had been a cruel, tight-fisted man. To him, daughters were nothing more than a free hand around the house: Free cooking, cleaning, laundry—and any other work that needed doing.

Back then, the pretty blonde had set her cap for a young lawman, but that dream had fallen through one rainy Tuesday morning, when a certain redhead climbed off the stage. His heart had been tied to hers, almost from the minute they met.

When Jess Crider came into town, he was young, good-looking and dangerous; more dangerous that Belle realized. After he robbed the bank, she tried to get away from him; but he tied her up and took her with him. That's where her bitterness began.

The young Marshal—or anyone else in town—failed to rescue her. No one even _tried_ to find her. She was devastated when she got loose and came back to Dodge, only to discover that she was being judged, right along with Crider. It turned out that he was the only choice left, so she took it.

Her second mistake—a few years later—was bringing Crider around her younger sister. Matt Dillon had tried to help. He went after the girl, returning her to her family; and Belle had tried to make it up to young Phyllis, for all the trouble she had brought to their home. By then, however, it was too late: Phyllis hated her sister, her father, and all of Dodge.

Belle traveled around after that. Working in dancehalls, saloons; doing anything it took to survive.

Then one day she met Rance Tarlton. He owned a big spread in Montana and just happened to be in Texas, on a business trip. As it happened, Tarlton saw something in Belle, something worth saving. That had been almost ten years ago. Somehow, over the years, Rance had managed to love the anger and resentment right out of Belle. Patiently, he had taught the young woman to trust and forgive.

 **O0O0O0O0O0O0O0O0O0O0O**

When Phyllis came back into Belle's life, Rance was more than happy to make room, for both her and the boy, within their home. For the first six years, everything had been wonderful. Phyllis had seen enough of the hard side of life to recognize what Rance and Belle were offering. She had a son, that she loved dearly and wanted—deeply—to have a good home. After years of struggle, on both their parts, everything was finally perfect for the two Ainsley women.

Then, Phyllis began to have headaches. At first, everyone brushed them off. She took powders and they would go away; but, too soon, they became more frequent. Then the seizures started. It was at that point, that both Rance and Belle demanded that Phyllis go see a specialist.

The entire family was devastated with Dr. Hammler's diagnosis. Phyllis had a brain tumor. Hammler sat down with all of them, explaining what to expect and about how long they had together. That was six months ago. The real trouble began during the last two months.

Suddenly, Phyllis became paranoid. She was convinced that Belle was going to kill her, then take her son away. Phyllis got it into her head to take the boy to his father. This part of her paranoia the young woman had kept secret. Therefore, when she grabbed the boy and took off, her sister had no idea where the two of them had gone.

 **O0O0O0O0O0O0O0O0O0O0O**

On the day that Collin McPherson first visited, Belle had led Collin into the sitting room and offered him a choice of seats. She also offered him a polite, but pleasant smile, as he sat down in the chair across from her. He reached down, tugging slightly on the fabric of his trousers, to loosen the pant leg around his knees. The well-dressed man then reached into his vest pocket to retrieve a small notebook.

"Can I get you a drink?" Rance leaned against the stone fireplace, with one arm resting on the smooth mahogany surface of the mantle. "Whiskey, or coffee?"

"No, thank you. Now, I'm going to need names and do you have pictures of your sister and nephew?"

Belle looked back at her husband, as he took one of the silver-framed photos from the mantle.

"This was last summer." Rance handed the picture to the sandy-haired man.

Collin didn't comment on the looks of either of the two people in the photograph. He learned long ago to stay as neutral as possible on a case. "And the names again?"

"My sister's name is Phyllis Ainsley and her son is Taylor."

"If she is traveling, she is going to need money. Does she have access to funds?"

Rance observed the gentle slump of his wife's shoulders in response to the detective's question. He walked over to the couch, taking a seat beside her, taking Belle's hand in his, as an offer of support. They shared a look of guilt, before Rance offered an answer. "I had set up a fund for Phyllis and the boy years ago. She cleaned it out." Shame brought on a moment of hesitation. "We should have closed it, but she started to deteriorate so quickly, we just weren't prepared…and honestly, with so much else to deal with, we didn't think of it."

"Is it possible she will go to the boy's father for help?"

"No, Taylor's father died before he was born. Mr. McPherson, my sister loves her son, but-" Belle looked to her husband, before revealing the rest of the story. "She is becoming more and more paranoid and delusional. Dr. Hammler fears that she is no longer a danger to herself. The danger is for those caught up in this fantasy world she's created."

 **TBC**


	11. Chapter 11 - Two Sons

**The Prodigal Daughter**

 **Chapter 11**

 **Two Sons**

"Matthew, we kin always pick up them there appaloosa's sum nuther time." Festus' spurs jangled, as he walked over to the window of the jail. His body bristled when he saw _Miss_. Ainsley emerge from Jonas's store. "I jest wish I cud take that heffer along fur the ride—and dump her on the prairie!"

Matt didn't bother to look. It was obvious by the scruffy man's tone and sudden irritation, Phyllis Ainsley was outside. He also knew Festus didn't want to leave, with her stirring up so much hurt and commotion in the family. The Marshal had to admit, there was a tiny part of him that wanted to give his permission to Festus, to take her for that ride. "No, you go on ahead. That's too good a breeding stock to pass up."

Festus suddenly jumped back from the window. "Matthew!" It took all he had to take his eyes from the street. Matt couldn't tell if he saw fear, or confusion, in the smaller man's gaze. "She's a cumin this way!"

Whatever was in the scruffy man's eyes had taken a leap into the cool blue eyes of the Marshal. _At least this time, there isn't an audience,_ he thought. "Festus, just try and keep calm." Matt was hoping he could take his own advice. The two men braced each other, as the wooden door began to open.

Phyllis stepped inside the small office. Angry green eyes surveyed the worn and tattered furnishings. She glanced back over her shoulder, "Will you come on!" Within seconds, the boy appeared in the doorway. In the center of the tiny room was a table, touting a black and red board and a box of checkers. "Sit down." The curly-haired boy followed his mother's directions and took a seat.

Armed with her usual rudeness, Phyllis announced her plans. "I have errands to run." The woman toyed with her gloves, tucking the material between each finger. "I'm leaving him here with you." Her glance barely grazed her son, before sweeping back to Matt. "You asked us to come here. Now it's time you got to know your son."

"Jest hold-"

"Festus!" Matt jumped to his feet with such purpose, his old wooden chair slammed against the wall. Neither Festus, nor Calleigh, were skilled at holding their temper when a loved one was being wronged. Dillon grabbed his friend by the arm, pulling him back, before stepping between the two people. "Miss Ainsley, I am _not_ going to play this game with you!"

"Really." There was arrogance in her walk, as she stepped back to the door. "Are you going to physically detain me?" She looked at the two men, obviously delighted with their frustration. "Matthew, you mind your father. I will be back soon." With a swish of her fancy faille dress, she was out the door.

A perplexed look was tossed among the threesome repeatedly. Festus finally braved a word to break the silence. "I see ya eyeing that there checkerboard. Do ya play?"

"Yes sir."

"Wael, let's jest see how good ya are." Once again, he cut the silence, this time with the jangle of spurs. "What culur ya want to be?"

"Black?"

"He's a right smart youngin, Matthew." Festus pulled a chair up to the table. "Well, go ahead; make yer move."

The Marshal watched the boy study the board. Young Matthew carefully eyed his opponent, as well as his subsequent move. Despite the years—six years difference—it was hard not to compare this boy with his own son. As quiet as Cooper was, this boy made him look like a chatterbox. There was fear in his eyes, that was a fact; but it was the sadness that piqued Matt's curiosity.

Festus was trying his best to pull the youngin out of his shell. He began a parody of stories about Aunt Theodore; and by the time he got around to Cousin Eliab, the Ainsley boy not only smiled, but actually laughed. His confidence seemed stronger, as he lined up his black pieces and began capturing Festus' checkers, five at a time.

"Matthew, I think this here little rascal is a hornswaggling me! Did you see him lay in wait fer me and take em all?"

"Now Festus, don't be a sore loser." Matt pulled up a chair between the two competitors. "He's not used to getting beaten that bad. You sure do seem to know your way around the board."

"Thank you, sir." Young Matthew began to set up the board for a rematch. "We used to play a lot, back home."

Matt was eager to ask, but fearful of scaring the boy off. "Who is, 'we'?"

"My mother taught me, but I played a lot with my uncle, too." He was so absorbed in the game, the information just poured out, that is until he realized what he was saying. The room fell silent, as his soft blue eyes went from one concerned face to the other. "I don't think I want to play anymore, if that's okay."

Matt cast a hopeless look at his friend. "Well, I guess you might as well get started after those horses."

"All right, Matthew." Festus turned back to his small opponent. "Wael, youngin, you shore is a good player. Mebbe we can do it agin sumtime." He turned to the door, letting his jangling spurs say goodbye.

Matt studied his uninvited visitor. "Have you eaten today, so...son?" The term so casually used in the past, now made him uncomfortable.

The boy was young but even he noticed the way the Marshal stumbled over that last word and the sudden flush to his cheeks. "No sir, but I'm really not hungry."

Matt grabbed his hat from the post. "Well I am. Let's go across the street and get some dinner."

Weary blue eyes gazed from beneath the brim of his brown Stetson, as Matt led the boy into the Prairie Rose. Tia's warm smile never wavered, despite the confusion in her eyes. She nodded her head toward the south wall, directing the lawman's gaze to the couple in the corner. The sight was enough to put heart back into his eyes. Like Tia, Kitty maintained her smile, despite the shock over her husband's companion. For Cooper, it was a little more difficult to hide.

Dillon pushed his hat high upon his forehead, before leaning down to kiss his wife. "Help me." His whispered plea did not fall on deaf ears.

The boy recognized the woman from the various encounters with his mother—horrible confrontations, when his mother said ugly things to this woman with the red hair. The Ainsley boy balked when the Marshal motioned for him to sit.

Kitty ached for the child, as she could see the trepidation in his giant blue eyes. "Don't tell Calleigh, but we just stopped in to get a piece of pie and some milk. I'm glad you could join us." With a genuine smile, Kitty Dillon motioned for the nervous boy to sit.

As young Matthew pulled out the chair, his eyes were drawn to a younger set of curious blue eyes across the table. The two boys said nothing aloud, but there seemed to be a lot of questions passing between them.

Before taking a seat beside their guest, Matt leaned down to ruffle Cooper's brown curls. In an unexpected move his son reached up, wrapping his arms around his daddy and kissing his cheek.

The husband and wife shared a fearful look, as the father hugged the worried Dillon boy.

Matt tried to sound as casual as possible when he offered a brief explanation. "His mother had some shopping to do, so she dropped him off at the jail." He was relieved, but not surprised, to find only compassion and understanding in Kitty's eyes.

Meanwhile, the curious eyes setting beside her opened wide, as they darted to his father. "You took him to _work_ with you?"

"No. His mother brought him. She left him, then went to run some errands." Matt thought he could salvage this conversation, but all he did was dig a deeper hole. "Festus kept him company while I was working. As a matter of fact, he beat Festus at three games of checkers in a row and I figured he had worked up an appetite."

"You played checkers? With Uncle Festus?" It wasn't an accusation, nor did it carry any contempt. Cooper's tone went deeper than childish jealousy. In his short lifetime, he had never doubted his family's love. He was never jealous of either of his sisters. But, he was Matt Dillon's only **_son_**. Until this moment, Cooper didn't realize how much that meant to him.

The other night at the restaurant, Matt had told Cooper that the Ainsley boy was nothing to him. But now… the very same boy was getting to spend time at the jail; and even playing games with Cooper's Uncle Festus. Had his daddy change his mind? Cooper had never heard the word, _insecure_ , yet strangely enough, he was bursting with it. He still felt sorry for the boy sitting across from him and he wanted his daddy to help him… but not this way.

Nettie finally arrived, pencil and pad in hand. "What can I get you folks today?" She maintained her smile and friendly tone, but the tension at this table was palpable.

Long, black lashes covered Cooper's downcast eyes. Kitty slipped her arm around his shoulder, pulling him closer. "This probably wasn't such a good idea. He has not been feeling well all day." She could barely stand to look at the pain in Matt's eyes, knowing that her husband was caught in the middle of the two boys. "Nettie, don't let these two make pigs out of themselves." Matt politely stood, when Kitty rose to leave. She turned, leaving a smile with Matthew Ainsley. "It was nice seeing you again. Please stay; enjoy the dessert."

Cooper slid out of his chair and grasped onto his mother's hand. "Bye, Daddy." He looked at the boy sitting next to his dad and forced a smile. "I hope you like the pie."

Taylor Ainsley wanted to tell the little boy how sorry he was that _his_ mother was causing all of this pain. He wanted him to know that he, too, had an Uncle that he dearly loved. He wanted to tell him that his mother used to be loving, like the redheaded woman. But he was too afraid of the woman his mother had become; so all he could say was, "Thank you."

 **TBC**


	12. Chapter 12 - Perfect Storm

**The Prodigal Daughter**

 **Chapter 12**

 **Perfect Storm**

Cooper gripped his mother's hand like a lifeline as she led him out of the restaurant. He kept his head down, focusing on the wooden boards under his feet. Kitty never missed a beat, as she pulled the boy along, leading him up into the private office of Adams & O'Brian.

Quickly slipping her key into the lock, she opened the door and stepped aside to let Cooper slip inside. He walked into the center of the room and then just stopped with his back to her. Kitty closed the door behind her, laid her reticule on the side table and took a seat on the bench in front of the window.

"Cooper. Do you want to talk about it?" Patience was a skill one learned when dealing with a Dillon. At that, no one had more experience than Kitty.

"He even has Daddy's name." The young boy dug the toe of his shoe into a soft spot in the wooden floor. It took a few more minutes, but finally he began to turn around. "Is he going to be Daddy's new… son?" The last word came with a flood of tears and a rush of energy propelling him across the room right into his mother's arms.

Kitty held the boy to her chest, brushing her fingers through the brown curls. "That little boy just happens to have the same first name, Cooper. _You_ have his last name. **You** are a Dillon." She pulled her boy up into her lap, placing a kiss on his forehead. "To answer your question—no, he is _not_ going to be Daddy's son. If you ever have a brother, it will not be Matthew Ainsley."

"You don't think Daddy and Uncle Festus will like him better?"

She smiled as she rocked him back and forth. "As Festus would say, I gar-on-tee they won't. They're just trying to make him feel better."

Cooper leaned back enough to look into his mother's face. "Cause his momma is so mean?"

This one would be harder to answer. Stalling for a little more time, she retrieved a handkerchief from her pocket to wipe away the tears. "His mother is making things hard for all of us. But… we all have each other. He doesn't have anybody to turn to."

"Are you ashamed of me for being stingy with my Daddy?"

"No. You already share him with two _impossible_ girls; and you're not stingy with them."

Underneath two red eyes and a slightly runny nose, a smile was forming. "Girls are hard, all right." A curious expression overtook him, as he looked at his mother. "You're a girl. How come you're not like Hadley and Calleigh?"

"Well, you see, I am an _older_ girl. When those two get to be my age, they won't be so difficult."

He seemed satisfied with that answer. That, and a kiss from his Momma. "When I get married, I want to marry an older lady. That would be a lot easier."

Kitty rose to her feet and took one last swipe at his tears with her handkerchief. "Ready to head home?" His comfortable grin had returned as he nodded his head. "This probably worked out for the best. Calleigh would have killed us for sneaking out to get pie without her!"

The tears were gone and they shared a laughas the two began descending the wooden stairs leading down to Front Street. Neither of them was prepared for the smelly man standing in the shadows under the staircase. Kitty jerked the boy behind her when she saw the gun. "Fergis Asher! are you crazy!?"

"Hardly. I know zactly what I'm doin." He waved the gun, to show he was in control. "Back up, gimme room. Now… head down that alley."

"You know who we are?"

"I know. 'Course I know! I ain't stupid!" She was talking to him like he was dumb or something. "I aint 'fraid of your husband, neither."

"Well you'd better be."

Fergis was getting tired of her threats. "Lady, you can walk, or I can knock you out and drag you. Which is gonna be?"

Kitty curbed her anger for the sake of her son and followed Fergis' commands. He kept the gun too close to the boy, for her to take a chance on yelling out. Finally, they reached the Asher warehouse on the outskirts of town. He pushed the pair inside and turned up the lamp in the darkened room.

"Boy, come over here."

"If you hurt my son, so help me, I'll kill you myself!" Kitty kept the boy shielded by her body. "What on earth are you planning to do with us?"

"For one thing, shut you up." He threw a handful of rope on the floor. "Boy, tie your ma up with that." Cooper tried to move, but his momma's backward grasp was amazingly strong. "You best be letting that boy go, before I have to smack some sense into ya."

"Don't you touch my momma!" Cooper broke loose and jumped toward the greasy man. Fergis was surprised—and scared—by the boy's sudden action. He was following his cowardly instincts when he brought the gun down on the boy's head, knocking him to the ground. At the same moment, out of the corner of his eye, he saw the mother coming at him. He brought the gun up, swinging it around until it made contact with Kitty, the same as it had done to her son.

The damp, dusty room fell silent. Fergis stood in the center of the two unconscious Dillons. The only sound, was that of his wheezing breath trying to slow down to a regular pattern. "Looks like I'm gonna have to do it myself. Pro'bly easier this way, anyhow." He snatched up the rope and began to tie up his victims. His favorite part, was gagging the woman. Her mouth was nothing he needed to listen to.

Fergis wiped his sleeve across sweaty brows, as he dropped onto the rickety chair in the corner. He looked at the two unconscious bodies, admiring his handiwork. They wouldn't be working those ropes loose. No sir, he had done a fine job.

It had been just past a week since he agreed to do the job; and that Ainsley woman had bugged him every single day. After nine days of watching and wondering how he was going to grab both the woman and boy, the answer had just fallen into his hands. Fergis had been following the redhead, waiting for the chance. When he saw the two of them going into Doc's office, he thought his prayers had been answered—not that he had ever actually said a prayer.

Fergis reached up to the window, behind the desk. He pulled his sleeve down over his balled fist and wiped a clean spot on the glass. Not a soul in sight. Fergis Asher had done it. A mouthful of rotted teeth came out of hiding, as he smiled at his own cleverness. All he had to do now was go get Lem to drive them down to the Cimarron Strip.

One. Thousand. Dollars.

Fergis had never experienced giddiness before, but that was surely what was making him dance around in circles, stirring up the dust on the bare wood floors. His excitement came to a premature end, when he kicked up so much dirt and soot, it sent him into a fit of coughing until he hocked up something yellow and putrid. It was several minutes before he was able to compose himself.

Enough celebrating. Fergis took in one last, deep breath, to prepare for the rest of his scheme. The boy was starting to rouse, but the mouthy redhead was still out. He wasn't taking any chances. Before going to fetch Lem, Fergis Asher double-checked the ropes and gags. Just as a precaution, he added one more rope, tying the two of them together. He took one last look, just to reassure himself, and then left on his final mission.

 **TBC**


	13. Chapter 13 - Collin McPherson

**The Prodigal Daughter**

 **Chapter 13**

 **Collin McPherson**

The stage was right on time for a change when it pulled up to the Dodge City Stage Depot. Jim jumped down and opened the door for the well-dressed traveler. The tall man stepped out, thanking the driver for his help. When he reached for his bag, the pull of his expensive suit outlined a muscular body.

"The Dodge House is right down the street, mister." Jim pointed to the building in the middle of the block. "And if you're hungry…" He pulled his hand around to the other side of the street, "The Prairie Rose has the best food around."

The stranger offered a grateful smile. "Thank you. I will probably take you up on both of those, but first I need to talk to the Marshal. Can you direct me to the jail?"

"Sure can. Right down there at the end of the street. I can drop your bags at the hotel if you want."

"That would be very helpful. Thanks again." With a polite nod, the gentleman started his journey to the Marshal's office. There was something special to him about this case that quickened his step.

Collin took in the sights of the dusty town with a professional eye. As a veteran Pinkerton man, he was always on guard; but knowing Dodge's reputation told him to be even more vigilant. Agent McPherson didn't carry that .43 caliber Tranter, just for show. Although he was quite proficient with the sidearm, it was only drawn when needed. Gunfights and bravado were not a part of his character.

He stepped up on the last section of boardwalk leading directly to the jail. The door was open, giving him a clear view of the small office. In the far corner, he spied a big man looming over a marred and beaten old desk. He stopped in the entrance and rapped lightly on the wooden frame. "Marshal Dillon?" Collin realized, as the man stood up, that 'big' was underestimating the giant of a man now standing before him.

"I am. What can I do for you?" Matt took one step to the side of his desk, before standing firm. He didn't sense any direct threat from the stranger, but like the Pinkerton's, it was his instinct to be cautious.

"My name is Collin McPherson." Reaching into his pocket, he retrieved a small white card and handed it to the Marshal.

Matt took the card, picking out the major points. _McPherson. Pinkerton Agent_. He fingered the card and took a closer look at the caller. "What can I do for you, Mr. McPherson?"

Collin seated himself in the chair in front of the desk, while the Marshal resumed his seat. "I've been working on a missing person's case for a man named, Rance Tarlton. He owns the biggest spread in Great Falls, Montana. I'm here about his sister-in-law."

His thumb flicked the corner of the card McPherson had handed him. "The name doesn't sound familiar. How can I help you?"

There was a moment when the two very experienced lawmen stared directly into each other's eyes: One knowing something bad was coming; and the other was the one to tell it.

"It's not as bad as you're suspecting." Collin offered quickly. "Actually, it's good news for you. It's just a little awkward to explain."

Matt's words were as blunt as they were quiet. "Say it plain."

"I've had a man here in town for a few days to-"

Matt interrupted him with a detailed description. "...Sandy-haired, tall, rather thin young man. Twenty-five, maybe a little more?"

Collin lost his sobriety to a half smile. "Your reputation is well earned. I will have to speak to the young man about his prowess as an undercover agent."

"Don't be too hard on him. I always keep tabs on the strangers that come through town. He didn't seem to be a troublesome young man, so I didn't approach him."

"Thank you for that. He is a good agent." Collin took that deep breath, that indicated he was ready to start. "I…know about the trouble you've been having, with a young lady named, Phyllis Ainsley.

The big man bristled; his jaw grew taunt, as he rose to his feet. "If this is some legal tactic-"

Collin quickly intercepted the Marshal's anger. "Like I said, what I have to tell you is _good_ news—for you. Please, just let me explain." Matt eased back into his chair and nodded for the man to continue. "Miss Ainsley, is a very ill young lady. She has a tumor that is causing her to suffer delusions. Her sister and brother-in-law are deeply worried about the safety of their nephew, Taylor."

"Taylor." Matt muttered the name with a sigh. "His name is Taylor."

Collin nodded, "I know what you were told and I can't imagine what you and your family has been going through. Speaking of which, my agent was quite impressed with your family. It's my understanding they all stood behind you, one hundred percent. All of them."

Matt cast a sharp gaze, as he picked up the inflection on the last three words. Would most wives have been so loyal? Maybe not, but this man did not know Kitty Dillon. "Are you married, Mr. McPherson?"

He brushed his fingers across the patch of silver hair at his temple. "I was." Two simple words implied so much sadness. "She was a wonderful woman…but this job kept me on the road far too much. You're a lucky man."

Matt rose to his feet again and walked toward the stove. "Can I interest you in a cup of coffee?" At the agent's acceptance, the Marshal filled a second cup and returned to his seat. "I am a lucky man; and I will admit, this news takes quite a burden off my shoulders." He settled back, pausing long enough to take a drink. "Does she really believe that boy is mine?"

"After speaking with her doctor and her family; yes, I believe she does." Collin stretched back in the wooden chair. "The sad part is, the lady you know is not the lady described to me by her family. Before this illness, she was a doting mother and loving sister."

"Her son mentioned to my daughter that his mother used to take him fishing; and he told me she taught him how to play checkers." Now he was torn with two images. That of his own grown daughter and his son. _What if such a terrible illness should befall Calleigh_? "What will become of the boy?"

"Mr. & Mrs. Tarlton will take him. They are devoted to both the boy and his mother." A pleasant smile rested on Collin's face. "This may surprise you, but Mrs. Tarlton speaks very highly of you." That did surprise Matt, and his stunned expression said as much. "She was very honest with me about her past. No excuses, nor did she blame anyone else. She said you tried to help."

The stunned expression faded into a sheepish smile. "Actually, it...uh… was my wife that volunteered me to help back then. I am glad to hear that Belle got her life straightened out. Does she know that you have located Phyllis?"

"I sent a telegram last night. I'm expecting them to arrive as soon as they can make arrangements. As I said, they are distraught over the boy."

"Well, why don't I take you over to the hotel and see if we can close this case." Matt rose to his feet, alongside the agent.

 **O0O0O0O0O0O0O0O0O0O0O**

There was one more stop Fergis needed to make before getting Lem. He crept down the alley to the back of the Dodge House. That rich woman, the one that hired him, was in room twelve. She wanted to know when the job was done and Fergis figured it was as good as done. He wanted the other half of the money she had promised.

That snooty desk manager never would allow Fergis in the lobby. Said he stunk up the place and his guests complained. Not that it mattered. He couldn't afford to be seen with the rich woman anyway. As was his usual way of life, he went in the back door and waited until Howie's back was turned, to run up the stairs.

He knocked softly, but frantically. "Lady, it's Fergis Asher. Open up."

Before he had time to react, the door flew open and he was jerked into the fancy room. "Idiot! What if someone saw you?"

 _Was this woman always mad_? he wondered. "I was careful. I just wanted you to know that the job is done. I want the rest of the money."

Was that a smile? It was almost scary, but Fergis was sure it was meant to be a smile. He watched her cross the room to retrieve a money pouch from her carpet bag. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw something move, causing him to flinch. When he turned for a better look, he realized there was a boy...ten- maybe eleven-years-old, huddled down in the corner. That boy looked as terrified as Asher felt. Who _was_ this woman? Fergis swallowed down his fears. All he wanted was to get his money and get out.

Phyllis pulled the money from her wallet and walked back to her employee. "You're sure they're gone?" She held the money just out of reach, until he answered.

"Yes'm. The redhead...and the boy. Both been taken care of."

She handed him the money, careful not to actually come into contact with his filthy hands. "If it isn't … _I_ will take care of _you_."

Fergis nodded. His head was bobbin' up and down like one of them apples in the washtub at the kids' festival last Spring. His eyes rested, only briefly, on the those of the terrified kid. Even if he _had_ been a decent man, Fergis knew he didn't have the courage to help the boy.

 **TBC**


	14. Chapter 14 -The End of the Partnership

**The Prodigal Daughter**

 **Chapter 14**

 **The End of the Partnership**

Lem jerked his arm free of Fergis' grubby fingers. "Keep your hands off of me!" He shrugged his body, as if to shake off the disgusting man's touch. "You got em?"

"They is waiting for you, all tied up like a Thanksgiving turkey."

"You got the money?"

Fergis patted the slight bulge in his breast pocket. "Right here. The whole two thousand. As soon as you get em loaded up on your wagon, I'll give you your half."

Lem told Fergis to wait outside, so they wouldn't be seen leaving together. With a subtle glance around the Oasis bar, he slipped out quietly to join his temporary partner.

"I'll drive the wagon down to the warehouse and meet you there."

Fergis nodded and took off in a dead run, to make sure to get there first. He did arrive first and hurried inside to make sure the merchandise was still secured. It was only a few minutes more before Lem came through the door.

"I thought you were going to have them in a crate!"

Fergis blew out an agitated breath. "Well I couldn't lift em by myself, now could I? And they wouldn't exactly jump in the box."

Lem shrugged. Maybe the reprobate had a valid point. "Okay, let's get them loaded up." He walked across the room and stepped inside the circle of dim light the one small lamp provided. "You've got them bound up together. We need to separate them in order to lift- …ahhh, HELL!" Lem jumped back so fast, he knocked over a stack of pallets, causing them to crash into the far wall. He stared at the now conscious redhead. Although she was tightly bound and gagged, there was no denying who she was. " **This is Dillon's wife!** "

"Yeah, I know that already. C'mon. Let's get movin'."

Lem stepped even further back, his bulging eyes were the perfect accessory to his mouth, which hung open in stupefied silence. Finally, shock was giving way to self-preservation. His fear took him to the next step: The other bound body was undoubtedly the Marshal's son. "I don't want _any_ part of this!"

"What?" Lem Nells was no coward, so his behavior was both confusing and frightening to Fergis. "What do you mean? I got your one thousand dollars right here." He quickly pulled the money from his pocket and shoved it into the other man's hands.

Lem shocked him again, when he threw the paper on the floor, as if it were burning his fingers. "Unh- _uhh_. I was in the Long Branch the other day. I _saw_ what he did to some drunken cowboy that made a move on her. If they hadn't stopped Dillon, he would have beat that man to death!" Lem took still another step back. "Nope. You keep the money and don't you _ever_ tell anyone I had any part in this!" He started to leave and stopped abruptly. "If you do, so help me, I'll kill you myself!"

Fergis stood in the musky silence. He could see the rage in the redhead's eyes and was ever so grateful she was still gagged. He paced anxiously, back and forth, on the same wooden planks he had done a victory dance earlier.

Two thousand dollars could get him a long ways away from Dodge. The fear began to ebb away, just enough to let a new plan seep in. He began to discuss the revised plan with himself, hoping it would make sense, if he could just hear it said aloud. "I could just run away. Start over, with _all_ the money. That woman would never find me." He glanced over at the kidnapped pair. "They ain't hurt, just maybe scairt a little." The fire in the woman's eyes quickly informed him that she was anything but afraid. He looked around the room. His focus found its place on a giant crate. True, he couldn't get them _in_ the box; but he could turn it over on them, boxing them in. It might just give him a little more time before they were found.

Fergis pushed the crate and it toppled right over the top of the Dillon's. "It ain't like it's airtight," he mumbled aloud.

 **O0O0O0O0O0O0O0O0O0O0O**

"Howie, is Miss Ainsley in her room?"

"I couldn't say, Marshal. I had to go next door for a few minutes. I suppose she could have come down then."

Matt nodded, glanced at the agent and they climbed the stairs together. The Marshal knocked on the door, but was greeted with silence. He knocked again, calling Phyllis Ainsley's name this time, but still…no answer came. The two men were about to leave when McPherson thought he heard something. A muffled cry… or something similar.

Dillon eased the door open, but the room appeared to be empty. Just as they turned again to leave, the faint whimper was heard once more. Matt threw the door open and there, huddled in the corner, was the Ainsley boy.

McPherson dashed around the huge man and dropped to his knees in front of the boy. "Taylor, everything is going to be all right. Your Aunt Belle and Uncle Rance are coming to get you."

It was an even mix of fear and hope that filled the boy's voice. "They are? Are you sure?"

The agent smiled, as he pulled the boy to his feet. "I'm sure. They sent me to find you." It came as no surprise to the seasoned Pinkerton man, when the youngster threw his arms around his rescuer and burst into tears. He held the boy tight, as he continued to reassure him. "Everything is going to be all right, I promise."

Matt knelt on one knee, to be of closer height. "Where is your mother, Taylor?"

"I'm so sorry for all the trouble I've caused you, Marshal. I knew I wasn't your son, but I was too afraid to say anything."

Matt brushed the tears away from the boy's cheeks. "No one is upset with you. We're just glad you're all right."

"But your wife and son-" His words stopped and the fear returned to his face. "Your wife and son… My mother paid a nasty man to get rid of them."

The giant man went from his knees to all six foot and seven inches instantly. "Who was the man? Where did he take them?"

"Marshal." McPherson snapped, just to remind him they were dealing with a terrified boy. "Taylor, son… Do you know who took them?"

"No. She gave him a lot of money and… after he left…" Tears welled up in the boys eyes again. "It was like she didn't know who I was. She threatened to kill me if I said a word, or tried to leave this room."

It took every ounce of restraint Dillon could muster, but McPherson was right. Taylor was frightened enough. "Can you describe the man?"

He was dirty—and smelled _really_ bad. It sounded funny, like… he was going to put them in… a box of cinnamon."

"Cinnamon?" Matt repeated softly. "Do you mean—Cimarron?"

The young boy sniffed back a tear and pondered the Marshal's question. "I guess that could have been it? Does that make sense to you?"

"Yeah it does. How long ago did this man leave?"

"Maybe an hour? It was just starting to get dark. My mom left right after he did."

"I could use your help, McPherson. Why don't we take Taylor over to Ma Smalley's?" He turned his attention back to the boy. "She'll take good care of you, son."

 **O0O0O0O0O0O0O0O0O0O0O**

Kitty struggled against her ropes, to no avail. Asher had them bound together so tight, there was no chance to escape. That worthless piece of flesh was going to pay for this! If she had to track him down herself, Kitty Dillon would exact her revenge for this man hitting her son. And tying him up! _And_ gagging him! And scaring him.

One thing she could still do, was to move her head. Kitty leaned back and rubbed Cooper's head with hers. She could feel him lean back into her in return. In an effort to comfort him, she began to gently rock back and forth. Sometimes, words weren't needed, when love was shared.

Both of the kidnappers had fled, more afraid than their captives. It might be a long wait, but both mother and son knew that Matt Dillon would rescue them.

 **O0O0O0O0O0O0O0O0O0O0O**

Matt ran down Front Street toward the Asher warehouse. His heart was pounding, his prayers flowing, that he would be in time to stop Fergis from taking his family into Indian territory. With McPherson hot on his tail, both men literally burst through the fragile old doors of the storage building.

McPherson turned up the light and carried the lamp farther into the murky room to search for the Marshal's family. Layers of dust and cobwebs spoke clearly of the lack of business this place had seen in the last few years.

"I think we missed them. If we leave now, we can catch up to the wagon."

"Wait." McPherson held a finger to his lips. "Listen..." It was faint, like mumbling—but it was human—and it was coming from the crate in the corner. It was also the only spot where the dust had been bothered. "Help me lift this up!"

Matt could feel his heart beating in his throat as he and the agent heaved the hefty container upward, tossing it back into the room. It was amazing how quickly fear could literally be eaten alive by joy. His wife and son—they were both alive! Both okay; and by the look in Kitty's eyes, at least one of them was _reeeally_ angry. Matt worked on the restraints to free his son, while McPherson untied the angry redhead.

"Daddy!" There was pride and confidence in the youthful voice, but no fear. "We knew you would save us. Those men were afraid of you... 'Specially the cleaner one."

Kitty shook her head and worked her mouth to regain some of the moisture the gag had absorbed. She anxiously waited for the stranger to untie her hands. "Matt, check the side of Cooper's head. Asher hit him with his gun."

The worried mother winced, when the stranger accidently brushed the side of her cheek while reaching back to untie her hands. McPherson looked at the redhead, knowing she was not interested in her own wound. "He tried to save me when Asher threatened to hit me."

"I'm all right, momma. It doesn't hurt."

"So you were the hero…" The proud father gingerly ran his fingers through the mass of curls. There was a small bump, but he didn't feel any blood. "I should have known she was in good hands."

Despite the humongous grin, Cooper denied any heroic stature. "I didn't save her. That man tied us both up."

"But you _tried_ , that's what makes you a hero." Matt hugged his son again, letting his gaze return to his wife. When McPherson loosened the ropes, Kitty pulled them over her head to slip out of the bondage. It was then that Matt saw the fresh bruise and cut to the side of her face.

After weeks of investigating, Collin McPherson had heard all the rumors, of the nearly legendary love between this man and woman. He had chalked it up as nothing more than romantic gossip in a small town. But now… he was witnessing firsthand the intense visual exchange between the couple. It was a look so powerful, that the Pinkerton detective fully accepted the truth of those rumors.

Any doubts that still lingered in his mind were quickly squashed, when he saw the look of rage the man suppressed in those cool blue eyes, at the sight of his wife's bloody cheek. Collin found himself hoping that whoever did it, was long gone.

"I'm fine." Kitty mouthed to the worried man. As she watched and listened to the chattering of her son, she couldn't control the happiness that burst inside of her.

Collin stepped in to congratulate the boy, giving Dillon a moment to confirm for himself that his wife was indeed all right. "Were you afraid?" That was all it took for the boy to start a litany of praise for the man that he knew would rescue him and his momma.

Matt pulled Kitty into his arms. He brushed the errant hair back, being extra careful as he exposed her bruised and bleeding cheek. "What happened?"

"I'm all right." She whispered, all the while knowing that was not going to satisfy him.

"That's not what I asked." He brushed his lips lightly against hers.

"Asher threatened me. Cooper jumped in to defend me. Asher hit him with the gun and then I jumped in to defend Cooper." She shrugged and started to offer an apathetic smile, but the pull on her cheek caused her to wince. Matt arched his brows, waiting for the rest of the story. "He hit me with his gun. Okay."

"Let's go home. I want Doc or Calleigh to look at you both."

Kitty balked when he put his arm around her to lead her forward and nodded toward Cooper. "He needs you."

Matt smiled and kissed her again, before reclaiming his son from the Pinkerton agent.

Collin filled Kitty in on the details of Phyllis Ainsley and her son, Taylor, as they journeyed back to Ma Smalley's. Again, she exchanged a look with her husband. A look of relief that told them both, their world was returning to normal.

They were just passing the livery stable, when Hank came staggering out of the barn. "Marshal, I need to see you." He held his hand to the back of his head and hung onto the door for support.

Kitty rushed ahead of the marshal to help the old man. "Hank, what happened!?"

"That…woman. That Ainsley woman. She come in here and hit me in the head with a board!" He paused letting the redhead take a look at the growing lump. "She stole one of my horses, Marshal."

Matt looked at Collin, neither understanding what the sick woman was up to now. "Did she say why she wanted it, or where she was going?"

"No. She just asked which one was my best horse and I pointed out that chestnut filly. The next thing I know, I'm waking up in the stall and the filly is gone."

"Do you want me to send Doc, or Calleigh, back to town to check you over?"

"Nah, Miss Kitty I been hit a lot harder than this; but I want that horse back! Moss is not going to be happy about this."

Kitty nodded and returned to the two lawmen. "What happens now?"

"Well, I know we're all tired, so I guess I'll take the boy back to the Dodge House with me." Collin volunteered.

"Daddy." Cooper tugged at Matt's shirt and whispered in his ear. The Marshal turned, blue confronting blue. "Are you sure?" The boy nodded and laid his head back on his daddy's shoulder.

"Why don't you get the boy and both of you come out to the ranch for the night? We've got plenty of room and you and I probably need to try to figure out our next step."

"It would probably be good for the boy, but I don't want to inconvenience you."

"We'd love to have you, Mr. MrPherson." Despite the wound, Kitty's smile was still a charming tool.

"Only if you will stop calling me, Mr. McPherson. It's Collin."

 **TBC**


	15. Chapter 15 - Baby Girl

**The Prodigal Daughter**

 **Chapter 15**

 **Baby Girl**

"Hadley. Come on in here. I've got a cookie for you." Calleigh rattled the cookie jar to hurry the little girl along. She slumped back against the counter with a scowl born of curiosity, not anger. "Baby _girrrrrl_ , I'm going to eat your _coooo-_ kie." Still there was only silence coming from the front of the house. Not at all a good sign, with a nosey toddler. "Where _are_ you?" She shoved the jar back against the wall. "You'd better not be into Cooper's stuff again!"

It was obvious the little girl was not going to come to her, so Calleigh headed for the hallway. Her laugh was one of patience as she shook her head. "You are going to be in soooo much-"

Paralyzing fear captured the young woman at the entrance of the living room. It stopped her actions, her words—and almost her heart. Phyllis Ainsley held the tiny redhead on her chest. That would have been terrifying enough, but the child's head lay listless on the woman's shoulder. Her blue eyes were veiled beneath heavy lids. In the other hand, the deranged woman held a small derringer.

Ainsley saw a threatening look in the O'Brian woman's eyes and quickly aimed the twin barrels at the sleeping toddler's temple. "Stay _back_." She jostled the unconscious child further up on her shoulder.

Calleigh pinched her lips between her teeth to keep from screaming at this lunatic. Instantly, she recognized the pungent smell of chloroform, but there was still a pink flush in Hadley's cheeks, giving witness to life. "What did you do to her?"

" _Her_?" Phyllis appeared insulted by the question. "Are you crazy! You're just trying to trick me. No one is going to take him away from me! His father will be home soon and we will finally be a family."

Calleigh felt the blood slogging through her body like cold molasses. In the distance, she could hear some of the faint calls of the ranch hands. She could hear the hypnotic click of the Ithaca clock on the mantle. She could feel the gentle breeze coming in the open doorway and smell the fresh alfalfa being cut. All these things told her that the world had not ceased to exist. It was only the confines of this room that had gone completely mad.

"You're going to have to leave now." Phyllis nuzzled the baby's head with her lips, as she rocked her slender body back and forth. "Matt will be home and I need to put Matthew down for his nap."

It was so surreal. Calleigh felt as though she had stepped into another time. Another universe. It wasn't until Phyllis moved, that she was snapped back to reality. "Phyllis." Calleigh called softly, careful not to upset the other woman. "Don't go yet. I...I thought we could talk. How old is your baby?"

"He will be two next week." Again, Phyllis rubbed her cheek against the fiery curls. "His daddy has been looking for us, for a long time." She smiled at Calleigh, her gaze void of any understanding. There was no reality left in those mossy green eyes. "He sent me a telegram, telling us to come here. It's in my pocket."

Is that right? Can I see it?" It was only a glimmer of hope that the woman lay down the gun to retrieve the paper, but Calleigh had to try. The empty green eyes stared at the baby, then the gun and finally the other woman.

"No! I don't think I like you. Your mother doesn't live here anymore. She won't be coming back, so… you need to leave now." An angry pout formed around Phyllis' thin lips.

As terrifying as this outburst was, Calleigh didn't dare take the woman down still another path. Right now, Hadley's safety was all she could concentrate on. "You look really tired. Why don't you let me hold her for you, for just a little while."

Calleigh's slip of the tongue sent the woman into a wild tangent. "Why do you keep saying SHE! You're trying to get him away from me. I'll kill him before I'll give him up!" Phyllis pulled the baby tighter; and the agonizing sound of the tiny hammer being pulled back, nearly shattered what was left of Calleigh's piece of mind.

"NO. Phyllis, DON'T! _Please_ …" Helpless hands went up to beg for her to stop. "I meant, 'he'. It's just that he's so pretty for a boy."

Something in the young woman's voice, or words, caused Phyllis to pause and take a long look at the listless child. "He is, isn't he. You know, they tried to tell me that big boy was mine, but I was watching this one through the window and…" She smiled, letting her cheek settle once again in the soft bed of curls. "I knew this was ours. We need a baby we can raise together, not a boy half grown."

 **O0O0O0O0O0O0O0O0O0O0O**

Matt motioned for Kitty to pull the buggy over to the side of the road. He brought Buck back around Collin's side. "That's Moss Grimmick's filly tied up in front of our house." At least a hundred collective scenarios rushed through the minds of the Dillon's and Collin McPherson. None of them made any sense. But then, they were now dealing in the world of Phyllis Ainsley, where reality had no bearing.

Kitty climbed out of the buggy, along with Collin. "Cooper, I want you to take Taylor and the buggy over to the Double O. Stay there until either your dad, or I, come to get you. Do you understand?"

Cooper reached for the reins. "Yes momma. Will you be okay?"

She smiled and leaned in to kiss his cheek. "Of course I will, I'll be with your daddy."

This fact seemed to offer the boy some relief. As he looked again at the Marshal, he pulled on the reins and headed the buggy to Calleigh's house.

The threesome walked toward the ranch house, none of them with a clue as to what they were about to encounter. When they neared the house, Matt saw the front door was open and motioned to the others to be very quiet. They marched, single file, up the few steps of the porch.

Calleigh was standing in the foyer, facing the formal room. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw the silhouette that had to be none other than Matt Dillon. "Phyllis, would you like me to make some dinner for you, while you wait for Matt?"

"No." The woman continued to sway back and forth with the baby on her shoulder. "When Matt gets home. _I'll_ fix dinner for all three of us! You'll have to go though. From now on, it's just me and Matt and little Matt."

"Little Matt looks awfully tired. Why don't you take him upstairs and put him to bed.?"

"Stop trying to get him away from me!" Phyllis was angry once again and her anger seemed to come hand-in-hand with paranoia. "I told you. I will kill him before I let anyone take him from me!"

Both men were able to see the deranged woman, but Matt had held Kitty back behind him, desperately praying for a miracle that would keep her from seeing the insanity unfolding in their home. From the conversation, Kitty knew what was happening, but she could not get her mind to accept it. Slipping away from Matt's hold, she quietly worked her way to the bay window in the front of the house.

A paralyzing fear washed over her body, wrapping its icy tentacles around her heart. Remaining silent was of utmost importance, but it was inconsequential, as she had lost the power of speech. Her blue eyes were wide, gaze fixed on the lethargic child in the arms of the insane woman. Not _the_ child… _her_ child. _Her_ baby. The breath, that only moments ago refused to come, now was bubbling to the surface, ready to explode in a primal scream.

Strong hands closed over her mouth, silencing the scream, as she was whisked back from the window. Matt's mouth pressed against her ear, his whisper was a deep, desperate groan.

"Kitty, _please_ sweetheart, you have to stop." He held her tighter, pressing her face into his chest. "Baby, please. If she hears us…" He couldn't bring himself to finish that thought. "You'll have to trust me."

Kitty heard and understood. She was transfixed, as her body became rigid, every muscle constricting tighter and tighter. Matt gradually released her, taking a step back. "I'm going to go in there." He whispered. There were many things they could have said to each other, but nothing that they needed to say. The moment he took his hand away and broke the connection, Kitty felt suddenly cold, empty. She shuffled, stiff-legged, back to the door, to watch the madness unfold.

Collin pulled his .45, preparing to make the only move left to them. He understood that the poor woman was ill and that by all accounts she had been a devoted mother and a decent, caring sister. But, something evil had already destroyed Phyllis Ainsley, leaving behind the decaying mind of a psychotic monster.

 **TBC**


	16. Chapter 16 - Trying to Reason

**The Prodigal Daughter**

 **Chapter 16**

 **Trying to Reason in a Maddening World**

Matt stepped cautiously into the foyer. Two sets of ocean blue eyes met and locked for only a moment, but long enough to see the fear in each other's heart. Calleigh eased her way back a few steps, to allow her dad to step forward.

"Phyllis. Are you waiting for me?" How was it possible for him to maintain that soothing tone? To speak in that low, rumbling voice…so smooth, it caressed the senses? Calleigh's eyes were drawn to the man. She could only watch and listen in amazement, as he skillfully took command of the situation.

It was heartbreaking, that by the time the light had returned to those moss-green eyes, the lady was long gone. She looked at Matt with love, but it was an aberrant love—one born of insanity and sickness. "I knew you would come." Phyllis smiled, as she hoisted the child back up on her shoulder. "I got the telegram."

"Well…I'm glad you finally made it. I was beginning to worry." Matt could feel the pounding of his heart in every part of his body. Every beat rippled through his giant frame, from the pit of his stomach to the persistent thumping in his ears. He swallowed hard, driving down the fear, as he looked at his youngest child. Never had she looked so small, so vulnerable, as she did at this very moment. The big man ached to feel those small arms around his neck again. To smell the sweet breath of her laughter and see the mischief in those blue eyes.

"Why are you staring at him?" She glanced down at Hadley. "If you don't like him we can-"

"NO! No. He's beautiful. I was just admiring him." He struggled to keep his breath even, his voice calm. "You were right to choose him. I know we can raise him to be a fine man."

Phyllis eased back, her vacuous smile returning. "He will be just like you. He will…he…will…" Her words trailed off as she became aware of Calleigh's remaining presence. "Why is _she_ still here? Matt, why is _that one_ still here?"

Calleigh's gaze darted to her father. "It's all right, Phyllis, I'll send her away." He glanced over his shoulder with a nod and the girl made a move toward the door.

"WAIT." Phyllis' brow furrowed as she studied the young redhead. "I know you… You're that woman's daughter. You claim to be his child, his daughter."

"It doesn't matter." He countered quickly. "You and I both know that little Matt is my real child. _Our_ real child."

The dark-haired woman leaned down, pulling Hadley's head closer to her own. She placed the derringer under the baby's chin. "It matters!" The cold mania had returned to her eyes and her tone. "That one's going to spoil everything. Shoot her!"

For the first time since Matt left her side, Kitty moved. Her hands flew to her mouth, suffocating the screams before they could come to life, keeping them captive in her head where only she had to endure the bloodcurdling cries. Now the lives of both of her girl's were held in the precarious hand of this deranged woman.

Collin stood alongside the grief-stricken woman. Her fear rolled off her body in waves, like heat from a blazing fire. It had been a long time since he had felt this helpless. The seasoned agent knew that time was running out, but the Ainsley woman was turned just enough that he couldn't get a clear shot without endangering the child.

"Daddy you have to." Calleigh's blue eyes still rested on the mass of tiny red curls, nestled against Ainsley's cheek, as she begged in a shallow breath.

The plea was faint, obviously out of Phyllis' earshot, but not Kitty's, or the agent. He heard the ragged breath and stifled gasp of the tormented mother beside him.

"You do it!" Matt's voice was no longer soothing, but demanding. It was demanding enough to draw Ainsley's attention back to her long, lost love. Her thin face lined with confusion. "Don't you see? I can't, I'm the Marshal. But, people would understand if you're the one to do it. They know how much we love each other and…and deserve to be together."

Silence exploded in the room, taking away every breath, every gasp, except for the sweet innocent sighs of the sleeping child. Finally, Phyllis seemed to relax, even draw upon his waiting smile. "You're right." She nodded. "I'll do it for us."

Collin took that half-step forward, just as Ainsley changed the direction of the derringer. In a split second, the insanity was sucked back into the darkness and the bright light of reality was restored—all done with a fifteen-gram piece of lead, wrapped in a tubular sheath, fired from the Pinkerton agent's gun.

Matt reached the woman before gravity pulled her to the ground, but his brawny hands only grabbed for the tiny girl. He swept his daughter into his arms, only to be instantly surrounded by two frantic, redheaded females.

With the mother's unspoken permission, he released the baby into the healing hands of her older sister. Calleigh hurried over to the soft velour covering of the Chesterfield sofa, gently laying the toddler down. Kitty hovered as close as possible, without disturbing Calleigh's ministrations.

Once her examination was done, Calleigh pulled Hadley into her arms and with tears finally allowed to run free, the older daughter handed the baby to its mother. Tears of joy streamed down the two women's faces, as they hugged each other with the little girl between them.

Matt watched the three women that ruled his world. His heart beat steady now, no longer pounding him unmercifully. Marshal Dillon sensed the other man step up beside him and turned with a grateful smile. "I'm sure glad you knew where I was going."

"Me too." Collin reached up, placing a strong hand on the Marshal's shoulder. "You've got quite a family."

"I do; and I'm forever in your debt for helping me keep them safe."

Calleigh knew she had to check on the lifeless body. To verify its death, if nothing else. Despite the horror they had just been forced to live, the young doctor felt sympathy for the poor woman and was glad she was finally at peace.

Just as she started to stand, Calleigh saw the infamous telegram sticking out of Ainsley's pocket. She reached for the yellow piece of paper, carefully unfolding the worn edges. Blue eyes filled with tears as she read the words that had driven this woman down such a dark and maddening path. Words that she had clung to, from the man she loved. The man—that in her bizarre universe—had loved her, had searched for her and their mythical child.

Calleigh looked at her mother and father embracing each other, with Hadley safely tucked between them. She glanced down, letting the first tear fall on the faded ink and read the message one last time:

 _Western Union_

 _BA342_

 _Currin's Dress Shop_

 _2401 Sutter St._

 _Saint Louis, Missouri_

 _We have been searching for your lost order and are pleased to inform you that the dresses you ordered will be arriving soon. Thank you for your patience._

240

Calleigh wondered what these words said to the twisted mind of Phyllis Ainsley. Maybe someday, there would be help for the sickness that claimed her.

 **TBC**


	17. Chapter 17 - Epilogue

**The Prodigal Daughter**

 **Chapter 17**

 **Epilogue**

Seven full days and six nights had passed. Time was being kind, as it tried to help buffer the nightmare that had weaved its black web around the Dillon family.

Belle and Rance Tarlton had arrived, a couple of days after the death of Belle's sister. During that time, Taylor had made his temporary home the LadyK. Cooper was a gracious host, taking his guest fishing and horseback riding—and even asking Uncle Festus if the visitor could spend a night in the bunkhouse, with the ranch hands. It would never make up for the pain young Taylor felt over the loss of his mother, or having to endure the hideous transformation that overtook her…but it was a step forward for both of the boys.

Belle had a long talk with Kitty, about children, marriage and the past. It seemed like a fitting time for Mrs. Tarlton to apologize for her own actions of her youth, as well as the ordeal Phyllis had put all of the Dillons through. The Tarltons remained in Dodge for two more days, in order to make arrangements for Phyllis—and to express their gratitude.

Tonight was the first night the Dillon couple was finally alone. Kitty had been torn, not wanting either of her girls more than an arm's reach away. Matt would never admit it, but he was also relieved when Newly didn't put up a fuss about spending a couple of nights at the LadyK—allowing the entire clan to be together. Calleigh organized games—for all three of the kids …and made popcorn…and bought bags of jellybeans. Kitty baked pies. Despite the sadness over Phyllis' demise, Kitty and Calleigh did their best to create a healing atmosphere for their guests.

 **O0O0O0O0O0O0O0O0O0O0O**

Matt grabbed the edge of the cover to help Kitty fold it down to the end of the bed. His clear blue eyes studied the solemn face across from him. "You all right?" His deep voice rumbled softly. She forced a smile and nodded, as she smoothed the quilted material. "I can go get her for you, if you want."

"No. She really wanted to go and I know she's probably safer with Calleigh than she is with me." Kitty stared at the bed, then turned and walked out to the balcony.

Matt licked his lips to conceal the smile tugging the corners. Someone needed some pampering. The big, tall lawman knew he was just the right person to give it. The cool breeze greeted him as he stepped outside the confines of the bedroom. It didn't take much effort to inhale the heady scent of the lilacs, or the sweet aroma of the white water lilies down on the pond. The rhythmic humming of the bush crickets was in the background, but all he could hear was the hushed sobbing of the woman in front of him. As usual, she had held up throughout the entire ordeal. A virtual rock. But now, the crisis had passed and she was running out of steam.

"Let me guess. You are so proud of your family, it's overwhelming you." It wasn't the words, as much as the touch that broke her reserve. One gentle hand on her shoulder and she whirled around burying her face in his brawny chest. The sobbing morphed into a foreign language that could only be identified as a babbling prattle. It was a verbal puzzle, but after twenty years together, he knew how to pick out the corners and edges to get the whole picture: Her little boy had jumped to her defense, against an armed man… Her daughter, had tried to trade her own life for her tiny sibling… And her husband had rescued them all—once again. While _she—_ did nothing.

He was no longer able to bury the laugh, but it was not to ridicule. It was a special laugh, only meant for her ears. A rich, warm sound, that made her feel like she was being wrapped in velvet.

"All those things are true, but who made these people who they are? Who taught them to have the strong moral fiber in order to stand up for what's right?" He paused, framing her face between his large hands. Her breath was coming in short sniffling gasps, but the sobbing had subsided. Matt thought it might now be time to take that first step outside the pity box. "Who makes the pies and buys the jellybeans to keep those two little redheads happy?"

It was a moment of silence, where he knew it could go either way, but his heart sighed when she began to laugh. Clear blue eyes peered up at him as he wiped the remnants of tears from her cheeks. "They are incredible children."

Matt wrapped her in his arms, holding her close to his heart. "They are. I've said all along, you make such beautiful babies." He led her back inside and pulled the sheet back for her to slide in. Turning down the light on his way by, Matt slid in beside her, pulling Kitty into his arms. His lips sought out hers, each of them, full of desire.

"Speaking of babies…" The words were concealed in his breathless speech. "I had a talk with Cooper."

"You did?" Kitty responded, despite the fact that her attention was being pulled in another direction.

"Uh-huh..." Hungry lips nibbled along her long, slender neck while exploring hands were creating pleasure elsewhere. "He's changed his mind about wanting a little brother."

A throaty sigh sought release in the momentary silence of the room. "He did?"

"He kind of…likes…ahhh…" A warm, wet tongue skimmed along the curl of his ear, breaking his train of thought. It took a moment for him to finish. "…Being the 'only' son."

Kitty's confidence had returned, paired now with a fierce longing for her cowboy's body. Moving quickly and unexpectedly, she reversed their roles and climbed on top of him. Before he had time to comprehend the sudden shift in power, he felt her cool, slender hands guiding him slowly into her wet, willing body.

All conversation was lost to the sounds of intense passion…soft moans and gentle sighs. Names, whispered in breathless utterances. Excitable cries of pleasure at the moment of climax that fused the couple into one. Then finally, the hushed sounds of two sated lovers, at peace in the security of each other's arms.

She shifted comfortably in his embrace, tucking her head under his chin. One arm draped possessively across the muscular outline of his chest. "Are you disappointed?"

"Am I … _disappointed_?"

She gave him a playful punch. "Not about that! About the baby."

"I think this whole thing has taught me to be grateful and satisfied with what I have. We've got one of each—what more could I ask for?"

His comment was either unclear, or she had misunderstood. "Matt, we have three children. What does that mean—one of each?"

"We have a boy, a girl and a Calleigh. If that's not, 'one of each,' I don't know what is."

Kitty laughed again, but couldn't deny his sense of logic.

"It doesn't mean we can't keep practicing." He hugged her close, kissing her temple. "Are you feeling better now?"

"Yes, thank you." There was a meekness in her tone that she would never reveal to anyone, but him. "We do have remarkable children."

"We do, at that."

Kitty stretched back in his arms, in order to look into his eyes. "And _you_ are a remarkable man. Did I mention today how much I love you?"

"You did." Matt rolled over, once again claiming control. "But I do think I need just a _little_ more convincing."

 **FIN**


End file.
